The Devil's Reign
by Grand High Idol
Summary: Terrence has always had serious issues with practically everything. But the meaning behind it is more horrifying than anyone could have ever imagined...including the very secrets of Lucifer himself.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

Dusk.

A single figure stood at the curb, waiting, watching. It was a quiet night for late fall, especially on a Friday; usually cars full of teenagers would be rushing along the streets blasting out rap music every half-hour. But this time, the city seemed empty, quiet...barren.

His eyes scanned the curb, finally stopping at a familiar house—the house his little brother had been going to for weeks, now, always after school, sometimes not even coming home until late evening. The boy had always wondered why Mac had never gotten busted once, but he figured as the elder he had to take charge—or face the consequences. Not that he enjoyed it...

Absentmindedly running a hand through his ebony hair, the young teen crossed the street, heading in the direction of the house. No sooner had he reached the midpoint, however, then a gust of wind blew past, ruffling his clothes and causing a slight chill to run down his spine.

Then the voice. Oh god, the _voice_.

It had been years since he had heard the voice—ever since he accidentally wandered into an alley when he was five. Needless to say, his first encounter with the voice had scared the shit out of him and he had run nonstop for five blocks, screaming at the top of his lungs. He could still remember the freezing feeling he had received when he first heard it...every now and again it would come again, a single chill that ran down through him as if his veins had been injected with liquid nitrogen.

Déjà vu, he had thought. Just a figment of my imagination, is all.

He was wrong.

The voice came again, this time right behind him, cold breath hissing down his neck:

"_It's not a dream, BOY_."

He froze in fear, then quickly whipped around, one fist raised. The street was empty.

_Hallucinations_, he thought, closing his eyes tightly. _I'm having hallucinations. It's nothing to be afraid of. Now just get your stupid little brother before_—

A clanking sound was heard from down the street—a familiar noise that he had heard many times before in his dreams. The grinding of rusted chains. Drawing his arms around himself, he whipped in the direction of the noise.

All remained silent for a few precious moments. Then a pair of emerald-green lights appeared in the darkness beyond the streetlight. At first he had just thought that they were the tinted headlights some cars had, but as they drew closer, he found that his guess was in vain.

There was nothing left to do but run.

Turning back around, he bolted down the street, panting in fear, cold sweat trickling down the side of his face despite the weather. The clanking of the chains followed him. Lowering his head, shutting his eyes tightly, he ran faster, ignoring the searing pain he was beginning to feel from his lower body. Screw Mac; he had to get home. He had to _run_.

He had successfully crossed the block when he accidentally bumped into a pedestrian—a middle-aged man, accidentally causing him to drop his hat and the briefcase he was carrying. The teen, meanwhile, had tripped in the process, landing hard on the asphalt. As he drew himself up, still breathing harshly, the man looked down at him with a scowl.

"Watch where you're going, you little—"he began, but he was interrupted quickly.

"Get away from here!" the teen shrieked, quickly pushing past him. "It's coming! It's _coming_, dammit!"

"What's coming?!" the man demanded, but the boy paid no attention to him; instead, he focused on the thing behind him. Uttering a low cry, he quickly shielded his face.

The streetlight went out. Thinking fast, he quickly dove into a nearby bush.

He heard the man's voice.

"What on earth...? What _is _this? Who are you—_OH GOD_!"

A loud screech pierced the silence, followed by a loud _CRUNCH_ sound—the sound of something being snapped in two with brute force.

The screeching faded, dying with a bloody gargling sound.

Quaking with fear, the boy buried his face in his hands as he heard several more noises—the slicing of soft tissue. The disgusting sound of something being dug into. Several twisting and creaking sounds. He tried to block it all out, but his efforts were in vain.

It was real. Lord, it was real.

The clanking ceased. A light breeze blew by, carrying the horrid, coppery smell of blood with it. Heart racing, body shivering, the teen slowly crawled out of the bush...and ended up stepping into something warm and wet.

_Oh, god, no_...

He staggered to his feet and looked around. The streetlight flashed back on the moment his gaze hit the sidewalk.

He gave a loud gasp and leapt back, feeling faint, dizzy, nauseated.

The man he had accidentally slammed into was dangling by the streetlight, intestines ripped out and used as a noose. His clothes had been ripped to shreds; his abdomen split open, causing his entrails to dangle freely. His neck had been snapped in two...compound fracture, to be precise. It seemed like every bone in his body had been broken.

"Ugh..." he muttered, clutching his stomach with both hands. His balance weakened; he swayed back and forth, and his legs finally gave way and buckled underneath him. He fell in the blood-soaked gutter, unconscious.

The streetlight went out again.

A demonic cackle was then heard from further down the road...


	2. Discovery

**THE DEVIL'S REIGN**

**By Grand High Idol**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends, nor any of its characters. The creatures and events of this story, however, are purely extracted from my own thoughts.**

**WARNING: THIS STORY IS RATED "R" FOR GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, SEVERE HELLISH ANGST, AND USAGE OF PROFANITY.**

**A/N: Upped the rating. Sorry, you guys.**

**I.**

"…Okay, okay, I got another one," Mac said. While Terrence had passed out in the gutter, Mac was currently sitting in the Friends' bedroom with Wilt, Eduardo, Coco, and Bloo. Because Bloo had gotten in trouble with Herriman for tracking mud all over the couch (again), the five had decided to spend time swapping jokes. Needless to say, Mac had plenty of them.

Mac continued. "Okay, so one time this guy was near the entrance of the grocery store—you know that place where they load the new shipments into the storage room…? Okay, so anyway one of the guys opened the back of the truck and ten cases of soda fell out all over him."

Wilt gasped. "Was he hurt?"

"No," Mac said, smiling. "They were soft drinks!"

At this, the entire circle burst out laughing. Bloo slapped Mac on the back. "That had to be your best one yet!" he laughed. "Got any more?"

Mac looked over in the direction of the hallway, then bit his lower lip. "Bloo…I think I gotta get back home now. It's getting late."

"So?" Bloo said. Mac looked at him skeptically. "Oh…okay. Just be sure that you got more for tomorrow!"

"Oh, don't worry, I will." Mac smiled, then got to his feet. "See you guys!"

"See you!" the entire group chorused, except for Coco, of course, who replied with her usual chorus of "Coco!". Mac waved, then stepped out of the room and began his trip to the front door.

"I suppose I stayed out a little later than I should have," Mac said to himself. "I hope mom isn't home yet…she's going to wonder where I went, and I hate making up excuses." He sighed as he approached the front door. "And I _really_ don't want to face Terrence again…"

Walking out the front door, he quickly descended the steps and began his walk home. The streetlight still hadn't come back on, and the street was quite dark—if not for the starlight he couldn't have even seen the sidewalk in front of him. He quickly crossed the street, then began to head back down the sidewalk—the same sidewalk, in fact, where Terrence had beheld the gruesome murder earlier. However, the stench of death was now completely gone from the air, and because of the darkness Mac didn't see much.

Mac looked up in the direction of the burnt-out streetlight. "Boy, they really gotta fix their—whoop!"

He gave this last cry as he tripped over Terrence, who was still lying in the gutter. The teen had begun to awaken; groaning, he opened his eyes partway and slowly pushed his upper body off the curb, rubbing his head. "Ugh…man…what in the name of—"

It was then that he noticed Mac, and quickly got to his feet. "You little—" he began angrily, but the recent events caused him to halt his speech. Looking around, he finally changed his tone. "Let's just go home, okay?"

Mac blinked, surprised that Terrence hadn't completely gone over on him. "Okay…" he finally replied, then got to his feet and began to walk back home beside his older brother.

Terrence sighed, trying to get over what he had seen, but he still had cold chills. He was in no condition to pick on Mac for staying out late to the point where he had to go and "search" for him, or so Mom had told him. He had the feeling that he knew what that…_THING_ was, that he had seen it before, but he refused to give it any thought until he reached the refuge of the apartment.

* * *

"Terrence, dear, this is a serious issue," the boys' mom said to the teen. It was the beginning of the night, Mac had gone to bed, and now Terrence was stuck on the couch with his mother. The moment that they had gotten home, Mac had explained everything to her—including finding him in the gutter, passed out with massive bloodstains on his overcoat and jeans. Thus convincing their mother that Terrence had either been raped or on drugs, one of the two. Needless to say, Terrence wasn't happy with this. At all.

"Mom, for crying out loud, I wasn't raped and I wasn't drinking _or_ high, for that matter!" Terrence snapped, crossing his arms. "I know what I saw, and I swear to god that…that…THING is out to get me!"

"Terrence, please, listen to me," his mom sighed. "You're the oldest, and therefore need to set a good example. I went over this many times before with you. And, just as I said before, lying to me is _not_ the answer!" She reached over and ruffled his hair. "Just tell me the truth, dear, and I'll make sure it goes over okay."

"Stop it!" Terrence pulled away. "Just stop it! You don't get it. I'm _telling_ the truth, I swear! You want proof; just watch the news tomorrow morning or something! I know what I saw, and I saw that guy hanging from a streetlight by his own intestines! _That's_ why I fainted!" He sighed. "Just…believe me. Okay?"

It was now Mom's turn to sigh. "Terrence, I think that those horror movies you've been watching are having a deep impact on you," she told him. "And even if this is true, how do you know that this being was after you and not that man?"

"It chased me!" the boy snapped back. "It tried to…it was breathing down my…" He clutched the sides of his head. "Just…forget it, okay? Forget all about it." He arose from the couch. "I'm going to bed."

"Terrence, honey—"

"Just LEAVE ME ALONE!" the teen hollered, before finally whipping around and heading toward his room in a huff, slamming the door behind him. He heard nothing but silence from the hallway afterward.

* * *

Images. So many images.

Ever since the incident back in the alley as a five-year-old, Terrence had never really quite felt like himself at times. His reputation as a jerky brother, adequate liar, and perpetual actor had provided him with enough personality, but time and time again he'd freeze; literally. His blood would run cold, and he'd sometimes have horrid visionaries.

A frail young girl dressed in white.

A winged shadow approaching from the flames.

The emerald-eyed killer, shrouded in mist, rusty metal chains at ready.

When he'd explained these things, they had just replied that he was probably still in shock over his father's death, but he knew, dammit, he KNEW. Even at the funeral, while Mac was sobbing and the little blue blob was trying to comfort him, he had stared off beyond the grave and into the horizon beyond, searching. He was too paranoid, too occupied to grieve at that time. Even on the ride home cold chills ran down his back from the visionaries he'd witnessed.

Now, lying on his back on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. It had been so long since the creature had appeared…what did it want with him?

"Who are you…?" he murmured, before finally laying himself to rest for the night.

* * *

"Mom, PLEASE! You saw what he did to the house the _last_ time you let him watch me!"

Mac's mom sighed. "Mac, please, I don't have time for this," she replied. "I have an important meeting to attend to and I'm sure Terrence will do a fine job watching you." She glanced over at the teen. "Isn't that right, Terrence?"

At meeting her gaze, Terrence immediately clasped his hands together and flashed her the phony "cute" look. "Of course I will!" he replied, drawing Mac up into a tight squeeze to the point where the little boy almost gagged. "And we're gonna have lots of fun!" He averted her gaze and flashed an evil glare down at Mac. "Aren't we, little bro?"

Mac grinned weakly. "Yeah…great."

"Very well." She gave Mac a kiss and Terrence a pat on the head. "I'll be home in a few hours. Be good!"

"We will!" Terrence replied, as Mom shut the door behind her.

The moment she left, however, Terrence let Mac drop to the floor, enjoying the _THUD_ impact he made as he landed. He then clasped his hands behind his back and bent over to face the brown-haired boy.

"Yes," he snickered, flashing a rather demented grin. "We're gonna have _LOTS_ of fun."

Mac shimmied away. "Terrence, cut it out!" he snapped. "I'm sick of you picking on me every second mom leaves! If you don't stop I swear I'll—"

"You'll _WHAT_?" Terrence growled. Mac cringed slightly. "You're gonna listen to _me_, 'cause I have a threat of my own. You tell mom _anything_ at all and _I'll_ tell her all about that freak-show place you visit!"

Mac's eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, would I?" Terrence raised an eyebrow. "C'mere, you little runt!"

Mac tried to get away, but before he could even raise one foot to the ground Terrence had snagged him around the waist. The little boy kicked and struggled, but it was proven to no use; his older brother's grip was too strong.

"Let me go!" he hollered, but Terrence ignored him.

"Oh, I'll let you go," he replied, stopping in front of Mac's room. With his free hand, he flung open the door and tossed the boy inside. "Go to BED!"

Mac landed on the floor rather hard, and as he arose, feeling rather dizzy, Terrence slammed the door and blocked it, with the help of one of the chairs from the kitchen. "Apartments are so convenient," he laughed to himself as he dusted off his hands.

From behind the door he could hear several vigorous banging sounds. "You jerk!" he heard Mac yell. "Let me out of here! I don't—"

"Shut up!" Terrence shouted back at him, folding his arms tightly. "You're going to bed, and if you don't zip it and get to sleep within FIVE minutes I'm gonna come in there and MAKE you, ya hear me?!"

The teen pressed the side of his head to the door, waiting for a response. Instead, he heard only silence. Huffing in annoyance, he drew back and began to head toward the direction of the living room. But not before hearing one last shout from behind the door:

"I _HATE_ you!"

Terrence snickered, then flopped down on the couch and began to search for the remote. Eventually locating it, he switched on the television—just in time for the news, of all programs. The irony was despicable.

"…In further news, the mangled body of a citizen was discovered earlier this morning by the local paperboy," he heard the announcer say. "The victim appeared to be a male, middle-aged, of a low-class suburban family. Autopsy has proven that the victim has suffered many horrendous injuries, including a compound fracture to the neck area, several broken bones, a skull fracture, and a gruesome disembowelment. As of yet, there are no witnesses so to speak of." She turned to the side. "We'll now take you live to the crime scene with our trusty reporter Mark Reynolds—"

Terrence quickly switched the program off, then lay back, shaking uncontrollably. Perhaps locking Mac in his room was more of a good idea than just an act of amusement; he really didn't want to get in on this with anyone else. Especially not his little brother, of all people.

He flipped himself over to the side, facing the back of the couch, then changed his mind and turned the other way. He didn't feel like doing anything anymore. He just wanted to clear his thoughts. Forget everything. But of course, that wasn't easy…

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. He growled and jammed a pillow over his head. Answering the door was someone else's job, _not_ his. What's more, he hated solicitors—who would probably be the only ones desperate enough to visit this time of night.

There was a moment of silence. Another knock.

"Go away…" he muttered, annoyed, pressing the pillow tighter to his head.

As if on demand, the knocking ceased. Terrence heaved a sigh of relief and removed the pillow from his head, flopping down on the couch, now completely relaxed despite what he had witnessed just a few minutes earlier. Rest would cure him. He knew it would…

* * *

_Hello, boy._

Terrence twitched in his sleep but could not wake up; he was too deep in his unconscious mind to awaken. But the voice was back; this time through telepathy. He recognized it easily from the night before.

_So we finally meet again. Pity I didn't get to introduce myself to you last night._

"Go away…" Terrence murmured in his sleep, quivering with dread. He dug his fingers deeper into the plush of the couch.

_Go away?_ The cackle came again. _It won't go away. You know it won't go away. Because you, BOY, are the one I want. The one HE wants. And if you want me to go to more drastic measures, so be it._

Terrence swallowed.

_I don't care. I never cared._

"What are you going to do?" Terrence heard himself say, still asleep. The voice laughed.

_You'll find out soon enough._

The teen struggled to breathe; the air around him seemed to be getting thicker. He thrashed once, attempting to wake up, but it was if he were in a hypnotic trance. He couldn't wake up.

_Soon enough…_

Darkness.

* * *

The teenager finally bolted upright, still struggling to breathe. The air had returned to its normal state, and he was relieved for that. But he was drenched in cold sweat, his shirt had clung to his back, and he couldn't stop his heart from beating a mile a minute.

He clutched his hand to his chest, shook his head, then finally took in his surroundings. His mouth dropped open in astonishment, and his eyes widened.

The door to Mac's room had been smashed open from the outside. The hinges had snapped off, and the chair used to blockade the door had been reduced to splinters. Swallowing his fear for a brief moment, Terrence quickly arose from the couch and bolted toward the wreckage. Taking a shallow breath, he stepped inside the room and looked around.

The place was a mess; it was almost as if a drastic struggle had taken place here. The closet had been thrown open, the beside table was in no better condition than the chair had been, and the portrait of Bloo was smashed. Mac's bed sheets littered the ground, along with one of his shoes and his backpack as well. Terrence slowly walked over and picked it up.

"Oh, dear god…" he muttered, staring down at the item. "It didn't…it couldn't…" He swallowed hard. "Mom's gonna kill me for this…"


	3. The Kidnappings

**THE DEVIL'S REIGN**

**By Grand High Idol**

**_"...Then they summoned me over to join in with them_**

_**To the dance of the Dead...**_

_**Into the Circle of Fire I followed them,**_

_**Into the middle I was led..."**_

_**—Iron Maiden, "Dance of Death"**_

**II.**

A bout of dizziness overtook him at that time, but he fought it back. Scaling the room again, he dropped the backpack and shook his head. "No...they couldn't have taken him...they couldn't have..."

He immediately began pawing through Mac's closet, searching for something, anything, that would lead to a clue as to where the kidnapper had gone. Nothing. Groaning in frustration, the teen whipped around and began to search underneath the bed sheets.

"DAMN it!" he exclaimed, more to break the eerie silence that surrounded him than out of frustration. He threw aside a blanket, then tossed a pillow toward the direction of the ruined beside table, causing it to fall and crash. Terrence cringed, then caught a glimpse of something atop Mac's mattress.

Slowly shimmying over, he placed one elbow on the mattress and, with the other hand, slowly picked up the item. It wasn't—yes, yes it was. A rusty chain link. Despite the heat of the room, Terrence still felt chilled to the bone. Heck, had he decided to jump in the lake with his clothes on, he wouldn't have felt any cooler.

_So it was that thing_. He shivered. _Good lord, how am I gonna explain this to_—

"HELP ME!"

Terrence immediately stood alert. The cry came from outside; near the apartment fire escape. Getting to his feet, he bolted out of the room and toward the door, almost stumbling over the railing in the process. Catching his balance, gripping the rail with both hands, he looked around.

Nothing.

Nothing but the dull October night.

He gritted his teeth; his hands ground on the railing. This creature was playing little mind games with him, he was sure of it. That scream he had heard earlier was obviously Mac's. The bastard thing had probably stunned him into some sort of subconscious dimension while he was busy kidnapping Mac.

But why? What did it want with Mac? The little boy certainly didn't have anything to do with this odd chain of events—heck, the first time he had even _seen_ the creature had happened before Mac was even born. Why hadn't they taken him instead...?

_Welcome back, BOY..._

The voice pierced his mind again. He growled and closed his eyes, concentrating...

_You want answers, do you not?_

Without thinking of it, Terrence nodded his head slowly.

_Well, I've got them. I've got them right here..._

* * *

"Man, what a DAY!" Wilt stretched, his one good arm nearly grazing the ceiling. A towel was slung over one shoulder. He sighed, then relaxed, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked down at Bloo, currently standing near the sink. "Hey, Bloo?"

The little blob turned around to face Wilt. "Yeah?"

"Sorry to leave you, but the gang and I are going to go take a shower. It's been a pretty long evening." He looked toward the door, then back at Bloo. "Care to join us? There are plenty of showers in this place."

Bloo laughed. "Yeah, right...I need a shower like I need another vestigial organ," he replied. "You guys go on ahead without me. I'll be in here doing...stuff."

Wilt shrugged. "Okay, have it your way," he replied, then ducked out the doorway, Coco and Eduardo close behind. The moment that they had left, Bloo sighed, then ran over to his bunk and flopped back.

"Whoo, am I _bushed_!" he exclaimed to himself. "I can't wait 'till tomorrow—I wonder what crazy antics will follow...? Of course, I have to make a mental note to myself this time..._don't_ play soccer in the rain."

He yawned, then crawled up to the top of the bed, tucked the blanket over himself, and slowly closed his eyes. He was half-asleep when a rather disruptive clanking sound ensued from within the room.

One of Bloo's eyes popped open, and he scaled the room, looking for any signs of the others. Nope...they had just left, for Pete's sake; they were probably still in the shower rooms. He shrugged it off, then snuggled closer into the pillow and attempted to fall back asleep.

_Clank_.

Bloo clenched his teeth, then looked up in the direction of the noise. He saw nothing but the sink, as usual. Groaning, he threw the blanket back over his head and flopped back down onto the pillow.

"They really gotta fix their plumbing around here..." he said to himself, before closing his eyes again.

_CLANK_.

"Just ignore it, Bloo," he muttered to himself, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. "Just ignore it..."

_CLANK!_

Bloo bolted upright, throwing the blanket off of his head. "All right, that's enough!" he shouted. "I'm going RIGHT down to the office and telling Herriman that there's something wrong with the house's plumbing business, and I don't care WHO stops me!"

He had just begun to get out of bed when the lights suddenly dimmed, then flickered off. A flash ensued, a growling noise was heard, followed by a shriek of terror...the lights then flashed back on, just as Eduardo entered the room.

"Azul, you must come to shower room," he began. "Herriman say that shower must be taken by all—"He blinked. "Azul?"

The room was empty. Eduardo scaled the room, then finally clutched the towel to his chest, eyes wide. "Azul...?" he repeated weakly.

No answer from Bloo.

There was a moment of silence. Then Eduardo let out a loud shriek and ran from the room, near hysterics. He needed to find the other Friends and warn them before they found out for themselves.

The hard way.

* * *

Terrence continued to stand on the fire escape, eyes closed, breathing shallow, hands clasped tightly around the railing. He may not have had company with him physically, but he had company telepathically. _Bad_ company. And, in all hopes, he had taken the chance that this creature just might give him some answers.

"What do you want?" he asked, expression unchanging. The voice responded in his thoughts, clear as regular speech.

_I already told you, BOY, you're the one I want, and the one HE wants. Need I repeat myself again for you to understand?_

"But who is 'he'?" Terrence replied. "Who are you?" A snarl escaped his throat as he added a final question: "And why did you kidnap my little brother?"

_I'm sorry I've upset you. But it was essential for him to take the boy. Without him, our plans will be in vain._

"Did you hurt him?!" Terrence demanded, unable to hide the anger in his tone. "Because I swear to god, if you did so much as pluck ONE HAIR from his head I'm going to—"

_You'll do WHAT?_ The voice responded, sharply. Terrence seemed to jump slightly, then settled down. _That's better. And...don't worry, your little brother's just fine. A little shaken up, but who isn't after a good kidnapping?_

"Let me talk to him." The fierce edge had returned in the teen's voice.

_I'm afraid that won't do. For you see, he doesn't have the same powers both you and I possess._

"What?!"

_...I'll just get to the bottom line, boy. If you want him back, you'll come to the junkyard. Tonight. If you don't do _exactly_ as I say, the little boy dies. Do we have an understanding?_

Terrence was reluctant, but he realized he didn't have any other choice—if Mac was missing when Mom finally returned from her meeting, he'd get grilled big-time, especially if there was a kidnapping involved and the stupid older brother was too busy sleeping to do anything. (At least, that's would it would seem like.) He bit his lower lip, then nodded slowly.

_Good. I'll meet you in a few hours._

The thickness surrounding his skull then vanished, dissipating into the air. Leaving the teen alone with his own mind...his own terrified mind. He looked down toward the stairs of the fire escape.

"Better get going," he finally said, unable to hide the shakiness in his tone. He began to descend the steps.

* * *

"...So you're saying this is where you last saw Bloo?" Frankie asked.

Eduardo nodded, gazing through teary eyes at the sink. "An' when I come back...he...he es GONE!" The minotaur-like creature burst into tears; Wilt gently patted him on the back.

"It's okay, big guy..." he said, although he was unable to hide the quaking mixture of panic and sadness in his tone. "Boy, I—I'm so sorry...I should've stayed in here with him instead of going out to take a shower..."

"Nonsense, Master Wilt!" Herriman, who had come to inspect the "crime" scene along with Frankie, replied. "You were merely following the proper etiquette for personal hygiene, which is an important part of our—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Frankie interrupted. She rubbed the back of her head, her eyes tracing the floorboards below her. "But what stumps me is...there aren't any clues. Not one. If Bloo had been kidnapped, don't you think the kidnapper would've at least left _something_?"

"Like what?" Wilt asked. Eduardo continued to sob.

"Oh, I don't know...a ransom note, a murder weapon, maybe?"

"_Murder weapon_?!" Eduardo cried. "Azul cannot be muerte! Cannot _be_!" He fell into hysterics again, this time literally falling onto the floor. Wilt stumbled and landed on top of him.

"Co-co-co-co, co-co," Coco said skeptically. Frankie groaned.

"Okay, okay, so maybe it was the wrong thing to say. But what choice do we _have_? Bloo can't be playing a game...and if he is, it's a rather cruel one, at that...but where could he have gone? Since the door was closed, he obviously hadn't left the room—"

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Miss Francis," Mr. Herriman replied crossly. The others turned to face him, Eduardo included. "Master Blooregard has been known throughout the entire house for his sneaky little practical jokes on us and the other imaginary friends, as well. I'm quite sure he's simply playing a little game of hide-and-seek, if you may, to scare us out of our wits just so he can laugh about it later on."

"Azul ne'er laugh at me," Eduardo said softly; Wilt nodded gently in agreement.

"Well, wherever he is, he couldn't have gone far," Frankie sighed. "Look, bunny-boy, you and Madame Foster can organize a search party for the house with the other imaginary friends. Ed, Wilt, Coco and I will go out to search for Bloo outside—in the time it took for Ed to get there, there was a slim possibility he could have left the house."

"Now wait just a—"Herriman began, but was interrupted yet again by Frankie and the others thundering past him. The rabbit sighed and shook his head.

"That feisty girl...never does anything right." He turned around and began to hop down the hallway. "Might as well warn the Madame before this gets out of hand..."

* * *

"_BLOO! BLOOOOOO_!"

"_AZUUUUUL_!"

"_COCOOOOO_!"

Frankie sighed and fell against one of the iron fence-posts used to border the place. "Well, he's not anywhere in the yard, whether it be the play area or what not...he's gone! Plain and simple."

"No!" Eduardo shook his head stubbornly. "Azul not gone! Azul come back, _si_!"

Frankie sighed and gently rubbed the beast's nose. "Ed, there are some things in life that, as time goes by, you need to _understand_. And right now you need to understand that Bloo is missing, and that we might not find him again."

The creature's eyed filled with tears, but he immediately swiped them back. He nodded slowly, then looked back up at Frankie. "Azul be...okay?" he asked.

Frankie took the beast's head in hers and gave him a deep and tender hug. "Hopefully," was all she could say. "Hopefully."

"Hey, I think I see something!" Wilt called suddenly from across the yard. As the tallest member of the brigade it was his job to search over the fences, in case Bloo might have gone out of the house's property boundaries.

Eduardo and Frankie immediately brightened. "Es it Azul?" Eduardo asked, hopeful.

"No, it's some kid—hey! I'm sorry, but I think we know this kid!" he turned toward them, then back toward the direction of the street he was watching. "Hey kid! I'm sorry, but could you come over here for a few moments, please? We wanna talk to you."

There was a momentary pause, then Wilt turned back to look at the others. "Man, how's that for manners? I just asked him a nice question and he takes off running!"

"Wait!" Frankie exclaimed. She ran to the front gates and shoved them open. "You said we might know him, right? Well, maybe he knows what happened to Bloo! It may sound like a crazy idea, but we've gotta talk to him!"

She charged through the front gates, the others following close behind her.

* * *

Terrence really didn't know what they wanted with him at first...he barely knew them as was. But he couldn't trust anyone right now; not with the way he was thinking; the emotional burden he was carrying. He began to run faster toward the junkyard, but it wasn't long before the red and purple ones caught up with him. The red one blocked his path, while the purple one grabbed him around the waist. He gave a cry of surprise, struggled to free himself, then looked around in a panic—the second Frankie and Coco finally caught up with the rest of the gang.

"Phew, you guys _are_ track material!" Frankie laughed. She then looked at the teen, who was still drawn up in Eduardo's arm. "Wait a minute...hey, I _do_ know you! You're that kid we locked in the unicorn stables, right? Mac's older brother. But what was your name again...Terry...Lawrence...Curtis...?"

"Terrence!" the teen burst out, a little too loudly. He quickly clapped both hands to his mouth. _Way to go, ace_, he thought to himself, before finally clearing his throat and adding, "Um...I mean my _name_ is Terrence."

Frankie smacked herself in the head. "Duh!" she laughed. "Silly me. Terrence." She looked him over. "You seem to have recovered from the last unicorn accident, hm?"

"Shut up!" Terrence growled, managing at last to pull himself out of their grasp. He dusted off his jacket. "I don't have time to relive old memories; this crazy _THING_ took my little brother and I'm supposed to meet him in the junkyard!"

He began to run again, but was halted by Eduardo, who had grabbed the back of his overcoat. "Bad man take Senor Mac too?" he asked, his eyes wide.

Terrence nodded. "Yes, they took Mac, too—wait a minute..." He turned to face the others, arms folded crossly. "What do you mean 'too'? I thought that it just took Mac!"

"Well, apparently we're on the same case," Frankie sighed, shrugging. "Bloo's been missing a long time. What I wanna know is just what they want with—"

"I think I have a hunch," Terrence growled, his eyes fixated on the junkyard, which loomed beyond the city like a barren wasteland. He shoved Frankie and Eduardo aside. "But I have to do this alone. I'm afraid you can't come with, guys."

"Hey, Bloo means just as much to us as Mac means to you!" Frankie snapped at the boy. "If Mac even _means_ anything to you at all, that is!"

Terrence cringed slightly at that last sentence, but nevertheless turned the other way. "I'm sorry. But it's a one-man's battle, and I'm searching for answers that I don't think I have." He cast an angry glare upon the others. "And I don't have TIME for _you_!"

He began to run down the road and, eventually, disappeared. Frankie shook her head and groaned in frustration. "Ugh! Can you _believe_ him?!"

"Yeah. I no blame Mac for seeing us day after day," Eduardo agreed, nodding.

"Co-co-_CO_!" Coco exclaimed.

"Yeah, you said it, Coco," Frankie replied, nodding. She looked down the road for a few moments. "Well, I don't know about any of you guys, but I'm going to find Bloo, whatever it takes, and I'm sure as hell not gonna let some up-in-himself _jerk_ of a teenager get in my way!" She rolled up her sleeves, a determined glare set on her face. "Who's with me?"

The others looked at each other hesitantly, then finally put in their arms (or, in Coco's case, wing). Frankie smiled, then drew the others close together.

"Okay, so here's how we start..." she began...

* * *

The junkyard was dismal and barren—the same state it had been in when Terrence had come to get rid of Bloo (with Duchess's aid) weeks ago. The place was _still_ a mess—then again, what junkyard wasn't?—and although the boy had felt no fear when he brought Bloo here, this time around he was petrified. The very fact that he was about to meet the creature that had haunted his nightmares for years gave him cold chills, and he had given thought about retreating. But the nature of consequence held him back.

"Besides," he muttered to himself, scraping the dust with one of his shoes, "What am I _supposed_ to say if Mom comes home and finds Mac missing...? 'Oh yeah, well, Mac was kidnapped by a supernatural monster that put me into a trance while he did his dirty work. No, I was not high, thank you very much.' Geez!" He finally kicked the dust out of frustration. "I can't BELIEVE this!"

"_But you should, boy_."

The back of Terrence's neck prickled; he refused to turn around, although it was obvious that the voice had come from right behind him. "Who's there?" he said weakly, although he knew full well just who—and what—it was.

He heard the rustling of chains. "_I think you already know_," it cackled. "_I can sense your fear, boy. But you need not fear me. I will not harm you in any other way_."

"You fucking liar."

"_Tsk tsk. Now is that any language to use around your guardian_?"

"WHAT?!" Terrence whipped around. "What in God's name are you talking about?!"

The cackle came again. "_Not God's name, boy. Satan's_." There was another rustling sound, and a dull shadow appeared beside Terrence's. A light fog immediately covered the ground, dissapating both of their sillouetes, as a pair of emerald eyes appeared in the darkness. The creature began to slowly step forward. "_Now, allow me to introduce myself_..."

The moment the creature came out of the shadows, the junkyard's lights immediately flickered out—just as it had happened every other time the creature was nearby. Despite the darkness, the teen could still see the creature's sillouete among the fog. His mouth dropped open, he shook his head, and backpedaled against a nearby car wreck.

"_I am the Soul Stealer. Third of the Undead Six_." The creature broke out into a toothy smile. "_And I wish to welcome you to your first trip to Hell_."

"No..." Terrence whined, shutting his eyes tightly. "Go away...go away..."

Raising the chains wrapped around its wrists, the creature drew closer, engulfing the teen in its evil shadow...


	4. Into the Abyss

**THE DEVIL'S REIGN**

**By Grand High Idol**

**_"There's a madman in the corner of your eye_**

_**He likes to pry—into your sunlight**_

_**He wants to burst into the street with you and I**_

_**A world of shadows, and rain**_

_**He's seen what love is...**_

_**He wants to pay you back with guilt!"**_

_**—Iron Maiden, "Chains of Misery"**_

**III.**

"Okay, now step quietly," Frankie whispered to the others as they entered the junkyard. The others followed her lead—Eduardo was still whimpering with dread, but she doubted that Terrence could hear it. She gently patted him on the nose to calm him down anyway, while the remaining Friends immediately dropped to their knees and began to slowly crawl along a wall of discarded auto parts toward the direction they had seen Terrence come in from. They were right near the boy, it seemed, when the light went out.

Yes. They had heard everything the creature had said to the boy, concealed from view behind a large wall of wreckage. Nervously, Wilt clapped his one good hand over Eduardo's mouth to prevent any sudden screaming or hysterical fits.

Terrence was having problems of his own in that department. In his nightmares, he'd always seen the creature as an image, something with no real dimensional purpose. But now, seeing the creature in full body form, he was petrified with fear. He was shaking uncontrollably and he was sure he would piss himself if the creature came one step closer to him.

He couldn't stand looking at it. He couldn't stand it.

And for good reason, too. The Soul Stealer—if that was, indeed, what its true name was—appeared to be an undead creature evicted from the ruins of ancient Egypt. It was almost as if someone had stuck the head of a horse and the ears of a jackal on a decapitated human body and left it to mummify. Its skin—what was left of it, anyway—was blackened and charred, as was the rest of its body, and most plentiful on the arms and legs; hands and feet. The remainder was just charred bone. The creature had a head resembling the skull of a horse, with rather large ears perched on either side of the place where the ears would have been, had the horse been alive. They curled slightly, like jackal ears, and were much too big to suit any other animal, living or dead. The teen didn't know exactly what the ears were made from—possibly cartilage?—but they were thin as paper and seemed to run with a streamline of empty veins. The spine ran down to the pelvis, then past it, creating a bony, somewhat whip-like tail, diamond-ridged on the end. A chest plate of God-knows-what covered most of its exposed ribcage. Around its wrists were rusty cuffs, and linking these cuffs together was a long, aged, steel chain. The only fact that the creature was alive were the glowing eyes, set in the once living horse's eye sockets like emerald orbs.

This was the creature of his nightmares.

This was a demon of Hell.

The Soul Stealer stepped closer to him. The teen gave a light whine of defeat, then brought both arms over his head. He was going to piss himself; he was positive. Any minute now...

The creature extended its bony hand. "_You need not be afraid, boy_," it told him, in a dry, demonic voice that sounded like a mix between a snake's hiss and the rustling of leaves. "_I am not here to hurt you. I am here to help you._"

"F-fuck you..." Terrence managed to whisper. He slid down from the wreck, curling up into a ball on the pavement. _What's he want from me what's he WANT—_

"_I heard that, boy_," the Soul Stealer replied. It lowered its chains. "_And I've told you. You're the one we want. You and you alone. The time has come to meet your Maker_."

"I still don't understand what you're saying..." Terrence slowly turned to face the creature. Finally his bladder failed him, and a damp stain slowly appeared on the front of his jeans. Needless to say, he was glad that there (seemingly) wasn't anyone around to laugh about this later on. He rolled over, then slowly got up, still quaking in fear but at the same time relieved.

"_We've been hiding it for years, boy. But now the time has come. You are needed by your Master to serve and defend him in the netherworld_."

Terrence drew in a deep, shaky breath, trying to get these images out of his head—trying to wake up from some bizarre dream—trying to FIGHT it. But it was hopeless. He turned back to face the creature, swallowed hard, then finally said, "And...and if I don't?"

"_That would be a pity_." The Soul Stealer shook its head. "_For you see, we have made ourselves a deal, per se. I clearly stated that earlier, did I not_?"

Terrence knew, all right, but his throat was too dry to speak.

"_I said that if you don't do exactly as I say_..." There was a flash noise and Mac and Bloo, dirtied with soot and frightened beyond anything, appeared behind it, chained to the ground. The teen looked at the little boy, who stared back helplessly through fear-ridden eyes.

Frankie, who was watching the entire thing, gasped. "It's got Bloo!" she whispered, but the others quickly pulled her back down into isolation.

"..._The little boy dies_." The Soul Stealer snapped its fingers, and in a flash of smoke both Mac and Bloo were gone again. Terrence hid his head in his hands and gave a sob of frustration, as the Soul Stealer flashed its toothy grin yet again.

"_Now, then_..." It raised the chains wrapped around its wrists. "_Will you come with me, or will you refuse_?"

Terrence leered at him angrily. "You son of a BITCH," he hissed through clenched teeth, then leapt at him in an attempt to pin the creature to the ground. The results were quite different, though—Terrence had wound up with three scratch marks across his back, his shirt and overcoat in tatters, and his neck now in a tight stranglehold. He made several choking noises and tried to free himself, but nothing doing; the creature was too strong.

"_Listen here, you little bastard_." The Soul Stealer's emerald eyes were now blazing an angry yellow. It wrapped its chains tighter around the boy's neck, cutting off his circulation completely. "_You WILL come with me. You WILL assist him. And you WILL listen to me_!"

Terrence nodded, gagging and choking for air. This seemed to enlighten the Soul Stealer; its eyes returned to their calm emerald state and the chains loosened. Terrence dropped to the ground, still gasping for breath, rubbing the marks that the demon had made around his neck. Truly, this creature was NOT something to be messed with—no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Moaning, he removed his overcoat to give his wounds some air, then staggered to his feet and turned to face the creature.

"Fine," he breathed, his voice ridden with fear and anxiety. "I'll go with you. Just...just don't hurt Mac."

The Soul Stealer broke out into another one of its eerily toothy grins. "_Not to worry. The boy will be just fine_."

Terrence collapsed against the car wreck and heaved a sigh of relief; the Soul Stealer faced the ground, its eyes burning deep into the dust. A mist of purple energy seemed to arise from it.

"_You made a wise decision, boy_," he could hear the creature say through the blood pounding in his ears. The purple mist began to swirl, driving itself into the ground. "_I believe that you'll enjoy working with the Master. He's quite good to those who stay true to him_."

"I'm sure he is," Terrence muttered, an air of sarcasm to his tone. He continued to stare down at the rusty paint job on the car he was leaning against as the mist eventually collapsed inside itself, forming a bright, swirling portal—a portal to the netherworld, if one may put it. The creature lowered its arms, apparently satisfied with its work, then went over and wrapped its chains around Terrence's leg.

Terrence was aware of the situation immediately. "What the hell are you doing?!" he exclaimed.

The Soul Stealer grinned, then gave the chains a yank, causing the teen to fall to the ground headfirst. Winded, the teen brought both arms around his chest, struggling to breathe, as the creature dragged him in the direction of the portal.

"_Just taking a few precautions_." So the dumb beast had _finally_ decided to answer his question. "_After all, we don't want you going back on your promise, do we_?"

"What makes you think I'm going to—gah—lemme GO!" he shouted, struggling to free the rusty links tied around his ankle, but it was proven to be in vain. The Soul Stealer obviously had superior strength—mutilating that man was probably simply child's play to it. He tried to fight it by thrashing, rolling, digging his nails into the dirt—nothing worked; the creature continued to drag him toward the portal as calmly as ever.

"_You're quite the headstrong one, aren't you_?" the Soul Stealer growled, looking over at him. "_The Master appreciates headstrong folk. I, however, do NOT_."

At that last word it gave one final tug on the chains, throwing Terrence directly near the portal's opening. It then walked over, flashed an eerie grin at the teen, then leapt into the swirling mass of darkness, dragging Terrence behind it. The teen fought one last time to resist, but with a final scream was dragged into the portal along with the demon.

Eduardo, unable to take it anymore, charged forward in the portal's direction. "_Senor Mac_!" he cried. Frankie, astonished, leapt to hold him back, but ended up hitching a ride on the beast's shoulders instead.

"Ed!" she cried. "Ed, what are you doing? Stop this!"

"No!" Eduardo snapped at her. "Bad thing take Senor Mac and Azul, but I get them back! I GET THEM BACK!"

"Ed, no!" she exclaimed, a trace of horror in her tone. "This isn't any of our—WHOA!"

Eduardo threw himself headfirst into the portal, Frankie still hanging onto his shoulders, but was halted by Wilt, who had grabbed onto his tail, and Coco, who had grabbed onto Wilt's leg. Considering Eduardo's weight, however, one arm just wouldn't hold it. Wilt struggled to hold him up for a few seconds, then, with a cry of surprise, fell over, his upper body landing in the swirling abyss.

"Man, this is _not_ okay!" he said, his one good eye wide with fear. He looked back up toward the entrance, where Coco was still keeping a tight hold on his leg. "Coco, please, try and pull us back up!"

"Co-co," Coco replied, struggling to hold on, but her strength wasn't nearly enough to accommodate Frankie, Wilt, and Eduardo. Eventually she, too, collapsed forward, sending all four of them spiraling into the portal, down into the abyss. Frankie and the others gave one final scream of horror before the portal sealed shut behind them...

Darkness.

At about that exact same time, Mac and Terrence's mom finally arrived home—in time to see the door flung open, the house empty, and Mac's bedroom a complete and total mess.


	5. Stigmata

**THE DEVIL'S REIGN**

**By Grand High Idol**

**IV.**

The Soul Stealer seemed to be oblivious to the flashes coming from around them as they went through the portal, but Terrence, still hooked to the monster, could see them clearly. What's more, these psychedelic swirls were all memories of the past.

A green flash. Terrence the three-year-old giddily riding his first tricycle down the driveway.

A red flash. Terrence the five-year-old, staring with disgust in the maternity room at his newborn baby brother, Mac.

A yellow flash. Terrence the seven-year-old, at his first day of second grade. God, those days were terrible, he suddenly remembered. Couldn't go one day without being shoved around by the other kids or picked on—hell, one of the older middle-schoolers had even tried to _rape _him at one time. If not for the teacher to interfere with the boys' "playtime" he surely would've lost his manhood on that day.

Actually, the teachers never really did care for him much, nor his parents, as did the students. They called him "punk", "stupid", "drop-out", and all other sorts of unmentionable names that tore him up emotionally. They had also torn him up physically many, many times. The teen in the present hid his face in his hands, unable to relive these horrible days.

There was then a purple flash containing a scene he knew all too well—the day he chased Mac and Bloo around the apartment and totally trashed it, thus causing Bloo to be sent off to Foster's. Actually, trashing the apartment was one of the things he had always _wanted_ to do. He was angry, vengeful, for every single bad thing that had happened to him in his lifetime. He didn't want to show the hurt, the fright, the loneliness; the fact that all he wanted to do was crawl under a rock and die. Rage had seemed to him as the only answer.

And rage it was.

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't _fair_.

The flashback pictures faded, leaving them alone in this never-ending vortex.

A flash of white light then erupted forth from the portal, casting both the teen and the demon into total darkness. A few seconds later they found themselves in the center of what appeared to be a large—and dimly-lit—room. The Soul Stealer landed with grace; Terrence, on the other hand, ended up headfirst in a pile of straw.

The creature strutted off and, while Terrence was still busy picking straw out of his hair and teeth (and wondering just who in their right frigging mind would keep a pile of straw in this location), a cry of both fright mixed with relief echoed from the other side of the room:

"TERRENCE!"

The teen whipped his head in the direction of the voice, then his mouth opened slightly and he immediately got up and ran, although not knowing what possessed him to. He soon found himself on his knees with his arms wrapped around his little brother, Mac, who was shaking and sweating. Bloo stood near a corner of the room, curled up on a pile of straw; he didn't seem to be interested in Terrence at all, despite his creator's sudden burst of affection for him.

"Terrence—it was—so horrible—this thing—it took me—so scared—"Mac whimpered. A single tear formed at the corner of one eye, then slowly trickled down his cheek, followed by several others. The teenager frowned, then drew him closer.

"It's alright," he forced himself to say; the boy needed comforting and he sure as hell didn't want back-sass from anyone about it. "Now listen to me, bro, we're gonna be okay. All we need to do is find some way outta this place and—"

"Oh, I'm afraid that won't be necessary."

A voice pierced the air; one so strong, pure, masculine...the velvety touch of a British intellectual combined with that of an ordinary man that would cause even the strongest of women to melt in their seats. Terrence slowly released his grip on Mac, who was still sniffling, then slowly turned around to face the source of the voice. Unfortunately the figure was concealed beneath the shadows of a nearby statue.

"Who...are you?" Terrence asked, more out of curiosity than out of fear, for once. The man's voice seemed to have a calming attire to it that not even a headstrong teen like Terrence could enflame.

A chuckle came from the figure. "Who am I?" it asked. "Difficult question indeed. You see, I...have many names. I've been described by thousands of cultures across millions of centuries as the Lord of Darkness. Hades. The Forsaken Ram. The Devil. Satan." It slowly emerged from the darkness, revealing its form. "...However, you may call me Lucifer."

Terrence blinked in surprise. This was Satan, the source of which all evil dwelled from? But this wasn't a horned, winged red monster, it was...it was...

It was almost like a normal man.

Lucifer had the build of the average male, his muscle tone firmly shown due to the tight, floor-length black robe he was wearing. His skin was very pale; almost white, in fact, which contrasted strangely with his hair, shoulder length and a brilliant raven shade. His eyes were a glittering green, flecks of red and gold dancing in them, and his ears were slightly pointed—almost like those of an elf's. He sported a light goatee, the exact same color as his hair. From his scapulae protruded two monstrous wings, almost his height and a dark gray, with the pentagram symbol burned into the base of either one. He smiled, stepped forward, then took Terrence by the hand. God, his touch was clammy—Terrence thought that he might as well have been shaking hands with a corpse.

"You must be our Chosen One," he said casually, as if this were something he did every day. "Welcome to Hell, boy." He cast a backward glance at the Soul Stealer, who clearly seemed satisfied with its work.

Terrence withdrew his hand and firmly crossed his arms. "Alright, so I'm here. Now what is it you want with me?!"

Lucifer chuckled and gave the boy a pat on the head. "We shall get to that soon enough," he replied. "Now, then, to start off—"

"_AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH—_OOF!"

"What in the name of...?" Lucifer exclaimed, then his gaze fell over on the exact same spot that Terrence and the Soul Stealer had landed earlier. Terrence and the others looked over, too, in time to see a very startled Frankie, Wilt, Eduardo, and Coco pick themselves up out of the straw, apparently in a daze.

A furious snarl seemed to escape Lucifer's throat; he whipped around to face the Soul Stealer. "And just what is _this_, dare I ask?!"

The Soul Stealer didn't flinch. "_I had no intention of bringing them over_," it responded, in its same dry, demonic air. "_They must've followed by leaping into the portal right before it closed_."

"Well, something must be done about it," Lucifer growled. He looked over toward a corridor nearby, then snapped his fingers. Almost immediately, two broad creatures—they looked like a genetic cross between a ram and a professional wrestler—appeared at the door, both sporting weapons that paid similar identity to medieval axes. Terrence's breath caught in his throat, and he bit his lower lip, expecting the worst.

Lucifer jabbed a pasty-white finger in the direction of Frankie, Mac and the others. "Confiscate them immediately!" he barked. "Down to the Prison of the Soulless. Now!"

"Yes, master," one of them boomed, then immediately seized the creatures—one of them took hold of Mac, Frankie, Bloo, and Wilt, the other took hold of Eduardo and Coco. All six were struggling to break free, but these creatures were apparently much stronger than they looked. As if they were simply carrying sacks of rice, the two turned around and disappeared down the corridor.

"No! Stop! Lemme GO!" the teenager could hear Mac holler. "Terrence, help us! TERRENCE!"

"Mac!" Terrence was unsure of why he had said it; it had suddenly burst from his throat. Whipping around, he quickly rushed after the guards, but his path was immediately blocked by the Soul Stealer. He ground to a halt, then looked up into the creature's emerald eyes, shying back a few steps.

"_I'm afraid you cannot see them now_," it proclaimed, crossing its skinny, bony arms. "_We have many more plans for you to discuss_."

* * *

"Well, what did you find?" Mr. Herriman asked the small, cute, pink chipmunk imaginary friend. "Out with it!"

"B-b-Bloo isn't anywhere in the house, sir," she responded, clasping her paws together nervously. "W-we looked everywhere—on the roof, in the cellar, in the laundry room..." She shook her head. "We couldn't find anything. Neither could any of the other search parties." She looked up at Mr. Herriman with watery eyes. "You don't think...you really don't think that Bloo's really been kidnapped, do you?"

"Absolutely not!" Herriman responded sharply. "This house has the finest security system imaginable...pardon the pun, my dear lady. If Master Bloo had been kidnapped I would've known about it immediately!"

"What about the other search party?" The pink chipmunk reached up to straighten the butterfly clip perched atop her head. "Did they...did they find anything?"

"What do you mean the other—"It was then that Herriman suddenly remembered. "Miss Francis!"

Quickly hopping to the doorway, he threw open one of the doors and made his way out onto the front porch, looking for any signs of Frankie or the others. When he saw no one—not even Wilt, and he was an easy one to spot—he cupped his hands to his mouth and called out:

"MISS FRANCIS! MASTERS WILT AND EDUARDO! MISS COCO! COME IN HERE _THIS INSTANT_!"

"..._THIS INSTANT_!

"..._This instant_!

"...This instant!..."

There was no response, only the echo of his voice throughout the emptiness of the sky. The rabbit sighed and shook his head. They must've gone out further to search for Bloo, he presumed. No matter; he was sure that they would be back within a couple of hours.

Or so he hoped.

Shaking his head, he hopped back inside, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

"...And _stay _in there!" The massive guards' voices were gruff, harsh. Before any of them had the chance to get to their feet, the cell door slammed shut, trapping them behind a wall of aged steel bars. Mac brought himself up against it, looking in the guards' direction as they sauntered off into the darkness of the hallway. He then looked around.

Clearly he could see why this was called the "Prison of the Soulless". The entire place was dark and gloomy, save a few torches flickering and sputtering near some of the cells, and seemed to be an eternal hallway of suffering. No matter how hard he had tried, he had not been able to get the moans, the anguish, the suffering out of his head. They continued, now, and he could see them—my God. These once living beings had been reduced to nothing but zombified shells. Their skin was pallid; their faces expressionless; their bodies thin and weak. Their eyes had sunken so deep into their sockets that it appeared that they had none at all. One of these people in the cell across from him—a woman, he presumed—came to stare at him. Shivering, he slowly withdrew himself from the bars and took a seat atop a musty-smelling bed of straw.

Frankie didn't seem very happy with the situation either. "Well, this is another fine mess we've gotten ourselves into!" she exclaimed, taking a fistful of straw in her hand. "How in God's name are we supposed to get outta here?"

"Co-co-co-co," Coco replied, shrugging slightly—if she was even capable of a shrug, that is. Eduardo seemed angered by her words.

"Es not!" he snapped back at the bird-like imaginary friend.

"Co-co," Coco replied.

"Es not!"

"Co-co!"

"Es NOT!"

"Co-CO!"

"Cool it, you guys!" Wilt held up his one good arm to silence them. "Now, I know we're in a bad situation, and I'm sorry about that. But we can get out of this! I know we can!" This seemed to calm the others a bit; they relaxed slightly. "Now, first we need to think of a plan."

"It's gonna be really hard to get outta here," Mac replied gloomily, his head in his hands as he stared down at the dank, moldy floor of the cell. "I mean, have you seen the size of those guards? We might be able to find a way out of the cell, but even then, how are we supposed to get past _those_ hulking galoots?"

"I could kick 'em in the shins," Bloo joked. Mac shot him another gloomily skeptical look; Bloo sighed and turned his head in the other direction. "Well, then I don't _know_ what to do."

There was a moment of silence before Mac finally added, "What I don't know is what they want with Terrence. I mean, there's not exactly anything _special_ about him. Why does Lucifer find it essential for Terrence to be here?"

"I dunno, Mac," Bloo replied, shaking his head slowly. "If _Satan_ wants him it has to be something bad. I'm not exactly an expert on that doofus, but I figure that there might be a side to him that we don't know about yet."

"And what was with that 'Chosen One' junk?" Frankie asked, making quotation gestures with her fingers at the two words. "Sounds like something out of an old horror movie."

Mac looked over at her. "Maybe it is, Frankie," he replied, his eyes suddenly taking on a hopeless expression. "Maybe it is."

* * *

"Remember, boy," Lucifer chanted softly, sitting cross-legged amongst a circle of burning black candles. Terrence, eyes closed tightly, was sitting across from him. "Go further back. Try to remember. Try to remember."

Terrence bit his lower lip, then finally opened his eyes. "Look, I honestly can't remember a thing about this place, or you, or that—that THING that took me here!" he snapped. "All I can remember was being haunted by it for years...ever since I was...I was..."

"Five years old?" A small smile twitched at the corner of the demon's lips.

Terrence's eyes widened; a small sob seemed to rack his chest. "Y-yes," he replied weakly.

Lucifer opened his eyes, the flickering of the candles making the sparks of fire dance in his irises; his pallid skin even more eerie under the dim light. "Try to go back to then, boy. What happened back then that frightened you so much? That possessed you into having nightmares for eight long years?"

The teen took a shuddering breath, then closed his eyes, focusing the little brain energy he had upon that moment. "I...I was five years old," he said softly. "I was walking home from kindergarten. It was raining. Mom never showed up...neither did Daddy...I was afraid. Deathly afraid."

Lucifer nodded, stroking his goatee with one hand. "And then what happened?"

"I...I didn't know the way home. I didn't recognize any of the roads. I panicked. I began to wander. Eventually I wound up in a deserted alley. It was dark, and I was cold and wet...I was terrified...I'd heard things said about 'bad men' who hide in alleyways and do terrible things to lost boys."

Lucifer was unable to hide the demented smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as the teen spoke. "And did one of those 'bad men' appear?"

"Yes." Terrence suddenly drew his arms around himself for warmth, despite the heat of the candles surrounding them. "Something loomed out of the alley. I turned to face it. I could only see its shadow—"

_Who are you_?

"—The thing took no mercy. It towered over me. It said something to me in this horrible voice—"

_Thus ye be damned, boy_

"—I tried to run, but the thing grabbed me by the shoulders with one of its hands. I heard it raise its other hand, and then it suddenly brought it down on me and—there was this—this horrible ripping sound—it took me awhile to realize it was my skin—OH GOD!"

He grabbed his head with both hands and fell over, whimpering unintelligibly. Stabs of pain coursed through his back every few seconds; he continued shuddering, black-and-white photographic-type images burning through his skull.

So much blood—too much BLOOD—

"Stay with me, boy!" he heard Lucifer yell over the pounding surf that echoed throughout his ears. "Did you remember _anything_ that happened after that? _Anything_ at all?"

"Back was ripped open...hospitalized for a week after Mac was born...stitches...so much blood...blood in the gutters...blood in the pavement...blood...blood..."

"That's all I need to hear." Lucifer stood up and walked over to the boy, then grabbed him by the shoulders and slowly stood him up. "Now, this may only be a theory, but I need you to take off your shirt."

Terrence snapped out of his trance and shook his head. "What?!"

"Take off your shirt." Lucifer pronounced each word slowly and sharply.

Terrence shoved himself away from the demon in apparent disgust, dusting himself off. "What are you, some kind of pervert?"

"_TAKE IT OFF!_" The glittering green in the demon's eyes had given way to a blazing red-orange; his once calming and gentle voice the same evil, demonic air as the Soul Stealer's. Terrence cringed in fear, then, shaking, nodded his head.

"Okay...okay, man...whatever you say."

Since he had left his overcoat in the junkyard after the Soul Stealer swiped at him, all he had to do was remove his black t-shirt. It was still scabbed to his back with blood, and he winced as he yanked it off. Throwing it aside, he faced the demon.

"Okay, I took it off. Now tell me, what is it you WANT?!"

Lucifer didn't answer, but instead kept his lips pursed as he grabbed the boy by the shoulders, then whipped him around. Terrence could feel the demon's cold fingers running down his back as he traced the scars, and although they were years old, he could feel the searing pain echoing through his nervous system as though they had just been inflicted. He clenched his teeth, sweating profusely, until Lucifer finally removed his hand.

"The stigmata..." he heard the demon mutter. "So this _was_ the right victim." He turned the boy around to face him, his clammy hands still clamped to the teen's shoulders. "It's been so many years...boy, do you know who you _are_?"

Terrence blinked. "Um...I'm Terrence...?" he answered, confused.

Lucifer shot him an annoyed glance, then gave him a rough shake. "No!" he shouted. "Boy, you are _so_ much more than an ordinary mortal! For years on end following the accident I have watched you. You thought you were pointless, stupid, _worthless_!" He gave the teen another rough shake as he stated each adjective, then drew him close to his face. "But you _aren't_. You are the most powerful being on Earth today. Your body alone is a _lethal weapon_!"

Terrence blinked, then looked off to the side. "So...you're saying you've been eyeing me for the past eight years?"

"Yes!" Lucifer stated.

There was a pause before Terrence shook his head. "Man, you really _are_ a pervert."

There was another moment of silence before Lucifer finally gritted his teeth, then threw the teen to the floor. "That's _not_ what I meant!" he shouted, then, realizing it was pointless, brought a hand to his face and shook his head slowly. "Listen, just walk with me. I'll go over the basics of what it truly means to be part of the Satanic Circle."

He strode off into the shadows. Terrence sighed, shrugged, then slowly followed after him.

* * *

The Prison of the Soulless was silent now. The guards were stood at every cell, and Mac and the others, having seemingly devised a foolproof plan, had drifted off to sleep. Bloo, curled up next to Mac, was dreaming peacefully, despite his surroundings.

There was a scurrying sound off to the right of their cell. One of the guards grunted, then turned his head over in that direction.

He saw nothing but shadows, and returned to his present standing post.

The scurrying came again. The guards paid no attention to it this time; whatever it was, it would serve as no threat to them. It was light-footed; small. They could easily crush it between their thumb and forefinger.

Something slunk past one of the guards, stopping directly in front of the cell where Mac, Frankie, and the other Friends were being held captive. Gently, it squeezed through the bars, long having become frail and emaciated from its surroundings.

Quietly, it slunk up to the spot where Mac and Bloo were sleeping. Its glazed eyes fell upon Bloo.

Then a worn magenta paw slowly reached out and stroked the side of Bloo's head...


	6. Preparations

**THE DEVIL'S REIGN**

**By Grand High Idol**

**"_I'm home and now I feel contagious_**

_**Am I the only place that you love to go?**_

_**She cries her life is like,**_

_**Some movie black-and-white,**_

_**They're not just making lies**_

_**Over and over and over again, she cries..."**_

**—Fuel, "Hemorrhage (In My Hands)"**

**V.**

_Bloo._

"Hnn—ugh...?" Bloo seemed to drift from his subconscious state back into the realm of his prison cell. His eyes were half-closed, his vision still blurry; he could not make out the strange shape that fell over him. It was all a blur of color to his visionary. The thing—whatever it was—softly spoke his name again, in a voice that was gentle, yet hoarse.

"Bloo...?"

He groaned, then blinked again. His vision slowly seemed to clear, right to the point where he could see the figure's shape in full form. His eyes widened at the sight, and his mouth dropped open slightly.

It couldn't be...

It was.

Berry looked at him through her worn, glassy eyes, her frail features curving into a thin smile. "Bloo, is it really you?" she whispered.

Bloo slowly sat up, taking care not to disturb Mac, who still lay sleeping nearby. He rubbed at his eyes, then shook his head and stared back at the creature again. No, it was Berry, he knew for sure—the magenta fur, the tufts of ears, the large eyes. But she had changed...for the worse, he presumed. She was covered head to foot with soot stains, her fur was matted and ruffled in some places, and one of her ears had been scratched at. Her eyes, once gleaming, held the glassy look of death, of defeat. _She must've been down here a long time_, Bloo thought to himself, before finally getting the will to speak.

"Larry, I—"Dammit. Wrong thing to say.

"_Berry_, stupid!" she snapped, immediately hurling a fistful of straw in his face. She then folded her arms. "Yeah, it's you all right. I'd know that worn-gear sense of mind anywhere."

Bloo sputtered, spit some of the straw he had in his mouth out, then shook his head to clear the excess. "Look, if it's about anything that happened in the past, I really—"

"Shut up!" Berry snapped at him, her features hardening in anger. "Because of _you_ and your _stupid_ little boyfriend—" She jabbed a paw in Mac's direction—"I got sent here! Thanks to that _stupid_ rubber band ball you tied me to, I ended up crushed by impact and sent down below! You don't think I'd come back to haunt you eventually!?"

"So...you're a ghost?"

"NO!" Berry screamed at him, spittle flying from her mouth. Mac twitched in his sleep a bit, but remained still. "I'm still _me_! I'm just in a soulless body that's _suffered too much_ to bear!" She sighed and fell back, head down. She then looked up at him, her features once again bearing a helpless expression. "You see, Bloo, we're all sent here for a reason—to learn from the mistakes we've made up high. I didn't realize it at first, but...I...I..." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I never should've tried to take Mac away from you. I was just envious that you weren't paying attention to me, that's all. And I wanted you to like me so much I...I guess I just lost it." Her voice broke on the last two words; her eyes wavered and she turned away.

There was a moment of silence as this all sank in. Then Bloo finally said, "Listen...uh, um...Berry...yeah, Berry (_oh my God, I actually got it right this time_!)...you could've just said you'd liked me before, you know. I mean, I probably still would've turned you down, for awhile, anyway, but—"

Berry looked up at him, annoyed. "Did you listen to a _word_ I was saying?"

Bloo blinked, then shrugged. "Well, no...no...not really. But that's not the point, right?"

"That _is_ the point!" Berry snapped, getting back to her feet. "I can't believe I _ever _fell for you in the first place! You're stupid, ignorant, and completely selfish!" Bloo fell back a bit. "But somehow, through it all...you're still..." She giggled as she added the last word: "Bloo-tiful."

Bloo was surprised, then he laughed a bit out of nervousness and grinned back at her. "Yeah, I'm awesome, aren't I?"

"Indeed you are," Berry replied with amour, fluttering her eyelashes. "And that's why I want to give you one more special little something before I leave you..."

"Oh, wow, really?" Bloo was ecstatic. "What is it? Cookies? Chocolate? Another giant rubber-band ball?!"

"Nope." She crept up close to him, her face close to his. "It's something better than _all_ those things put together."

"But what—"Bloo began, but he was interrupted as Berry pressed her lips to his, blocking out all sound. The little blue blob was much too surprised by Berry's actions to do anything during the time she kissed him, and when she finally withdrew herself, he was in shock. She giggled, then turned around.

"I'd always wanted to do that to you...ever since I first met you." The glimmer had now gone back into her eyes. "Now I gotta go, before the guards wonder what I'm doing off my post—"

"Post?" Bloo asked. His gaze shifted slightly. "Wait...you mean...you actually _work_ here now?"

Berry halted in her tracks, then turned to face him and nodded her head slowly. "Yeah, I do. All of us are supposed to work for Lucifer once he claims us."

"But wait...wait a minute...do you happen to know any of the guards around here?"

Berry shrugged. "Sorta. I mostly spend my time burning coal down in the magma mines, but I get around." She looked at him. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just that me, Mac and all the other guys—"He gestured toward Frankie, Wilt, Coco, and Eduardo—"Are trapped in this cell, and we need to get out. It's really important, or else I wouldn't ask you. We've come up with a pretty foolproof plan for getting out of the cell, but we still can't figure out a way to safely get past the guards. I mean, you've seen the size of those guys, right?"

Berry nodded. "I think I see what you mean..."

"Yeah...yeah." Bloo leaned over toward her. "So, could you do us all a _big_ favor and help us get past the guards before something bad happens?"

"I dunno..." Berry shifted her gaze over to the side. "I'm not really supposed to do things like this. Sneaking out here to see you was a hazard to me. I can't leave the mines unless I get permission from Lucifer or another higher to do so."

"Do you think you could...ask someone?" Bloo asked, something suddenly springing to mind. He came closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and grinned seductively. If he knew Berry, she'd fall for it like the city of Jericho.

Berry seemed in shock for a bit, then, sure enough, she giggled and nodded. "I could try," she responded, "but I'm gonna have to make it quick. If Lucifer finds out that I'm not at the initiation, I'm gonna be in big trouble."

"Okay, that sounds—wait, 'initiation'? What 'initiation'?"

Berry blinked. "Didn't you hear?" she asked. "Lucifer finally found his Chosen One—his heir to the satanic throne—after almost a decade of searching. They're gonna crown him at midnight tonight and perform a sacred ritual that hasn't been performed for centuries...or so I heard."

"But who—"He stopped again. _Terrence_!

"Berry, please make this quick," he pleaded, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Please. I'm begging you."

Berry looked back at him, then finally nodded, her features set in determination. "I'll try, Bloo," she responded. "I'll try my best."

With that, she had turned around and was gone. Bloo chewed his lower lip, then quickly sprang over to Mac and shook him awake. The little boy emitted a surprised grunt, then sat up and rubbed at his eyes.

"Wha—morning already?" he asked groggily. Bloo shook him some more.

"Mac, come on, wake the others," he said nervously. "We got a problem. A _big_ problem."

* * *

"So, do you like what you see so far?" Lucifer asked him, his cold features once again set in that demented grin. He and Terrence had just left the outside grounds—where most of the Damned worked and toiled—and were now walking down yet another musty corridor...except this one was different in scent, Terrence realized. This one smelled oddly of wet dog...

"Um...well, it _is_ kinda cool," Terrence replied honestly, rubbing at his bare arm with one hand. "But I still don't know what you're getting at about this Satanic Circle stuff. And what did you mean earlier...you know...about me being the most powerful being on Earth?"

"Your curiosity is uncanny." Lucifer ran his cold fingers through the boy's hair, causing him to cringe again. "But I suppose I should tell you before things get too out of hand. Now, I know this is going to startle you, but you, boy, are my heir to the Throne. You are the one who will take control of Hell alongside me, Fallen Angel and Apprentice. You were marked with stigmata at an early age as so to identify you properly when the time came." He moved his hands to the teen's shoulders. "And that time, my boy, is _now_."

Terrence was speechless—more out of shock than out of gratitude. "I...I...I..."

Lucifer ignored him. "Glad to hear it," he replied; he then turned to the opposite wall—which, in fact, turned out to be a giant metal door—funny how he hadn't noticed it before. "Now then, first things first before we get you prepared. Have you always wanted to have a dog, boy?"

Terrence was still in shock; he nodded his head slowly.

"Of course. Everyone wants a companion that they can relate to—such as your little brother and his _precious, adorable_ little _friend_." He said the last few words mockingly; this seemed to make Terrence slip out of shock and back into consciousness. Lucifer stopped for a minute, then turned to face him.

"Actually, you not being able to think up a proper companion was my fault. But believe me, it was for your own good. In order to hopefully block out telepathic visionaries during the day and to prevent you from doing anything drastic in your moments of rage, we sealed off a certain section of your brain."

"Oh, gee, thanks," Terrence replied sarcastically, crossing his arms.

Lucifer glared at him for a second, then focused his gaze back on the metal door. "Either way, you will gain your own companion out of all this." He reached into his robe and removed a mold-encrusted whistle that appeared to have been carved from bone, and blew it.

Immediately following it came a loud creaking noise, then the sound of heavy footfalls that made the floor beneath them tremble. They stopped directly at the door, followed by a series of loud snarls—almost like those of a tyrannosaur crossed with a dog. Lucifer smiled and, placing his hand on the door, slowly swung it open.

"My boy, meet Cerberus, Dog of the Underworld."

"WHOA!" Terrence shouted in awe as he stared up at the creature before him. The beast towered over them both—he estimated at least as tall as a two-story building—and, just like the creature in Greek mythology, resembled a three-headed Doberman with a serpent tail. The eyes of the three heads each blazed a different color: the first one yellow, the second one orange, and the third one green. Three identical collars studded with human and animal skulls encircled each of their necks.

At being released, each head emitted a loud bellowing sound, revealing rows of teeth that could easily crush an eighteen-wheeler. The middle head—apparently the dominant one—leaned down to face the two, its teeth bared, saliva dripping from its jowls. At sensing Lucifer's presence, however, its eyes shut and it lowered its body to the ground, as if bowing. The second and third heads followed suite.

Lucifer smiled coldly and stroked the middle head. "He's a beauty, isn't he?" Terrence was still stupefied. "Yes...yes. Not one in the universe like him. And he's all yours—once I show you what's in store for you."

"He—he looks hungry." Terrence shied away a few steps, his back pressed against the wall.

Lucifer chuckled. "Oh, he's always like that. You see, he's starved, to be precise. I keep him that way. Seems to make him all the more ferocious when someone disobeys my orders." His cold green eyes seemed to gleam as he stared over at the young teen. "Of course, once you're initiated he won't hurt you at all."

"Initiated...?" Terrence said the word slowly, befuddled.

With another quick blow of the whistle, Cerberus was shut back behind the door. Slipping the whistle back into his cloak, Lucifer nodded his head. "Yes, boy, initiation." He made a finger gesture for Terrence to come with him, as he slowly walked down the hall, his sandals clacking on the stones. "Come."

* * *

"Mister Thanatos, um...sir?"

The red-cloaked demon, head-keeper of the Mines, stared down at her skeptically. Berry, realizing that she had been tugging on his cloak, giggled nervously and immediately released it. He drew it back, grunting angrily as he did so.

Berry recollected herself in time to make her speech. "Thanatos, you see, there are some prisoners down in the Prison of the Soulless, and, well, I think they'd make a great addition to the work crew here. Whaddya think? I mean, all the more beings _toiling and suffering_ away creating these _evil_ creatures from living clay, and you watching on with that look of _smug certainty_ on your face!" The imaginary friend knew that if there was _one_ thing Thanatos couldn't resist, if was watching more and more people suffer at his hands.

He had to fall for this one. He just _had_ to.

The demon twirled his thin black beard in thought, considering. Finally he looked back down at the magenta creature and spoke his reply:

"Yes. That would do nicely. Fetch them at once—and hurry up with it, you trashy hellspawn! We only have three hours until the initiation starts."

"Thank you sir, thank you oh so berry much," Berry replied happily, and, with that, she bounded over a rock and was gone.

"Idiot," she giggled as soon as she was out of hearing range. "Now, to go get Bloo."

* * *

"This, boy, is the room of the Befallen Ram," Lucifer finally announced, leading him into a pitch-black room; the only source of light was a dim torch that sputtered on the nearby wall. Lucifer quickly took care of that, however, by giving another snap of his fingers. Immediately, walls of flame roared to life from the once dead ground, licking their way toward the ceiling. Terrence was startled a bit, but Lucifer continued to drag him on.

"Your time is a special time, boy. For centuries no one has dared set foot in this room for fear of disturbing the beast within. But you can harness that power, my boy. You can _become_ the beast itself!"

Terrence looked down at the flames licking around his feet, then took a deep breath and looked back up. "Um...what was your name again...? Lucifer, I honestly don't think I'm ready for this."

"Nonsense, boy; you're thirteen. At the age of thirteen a child's life as we know it is gone, over with, _done_. You might be experiencing some changes within yourself, but, unlike other adolescents, you'll also be experiencing upright _power_." He clenched his white knuckles tightly, his teeth bared.

They had now come to the end of the room, which sported nothing more than a statue of a leering ram's head atop a stone pole. Held to the pole, however, was an outfit that Terrence had never seen before in his life—it was almost like the Middle Ages had met the Army of the Dead. It consisted of a dark, silvery-gray jumpsuit, silver-colored boots and gloves, gold-ridged knee and elbow cuffs, one of those exact same chest plates that the Soul Stealer had been wearing, and a shoulder plate and miniskirt made entirely of chain mail. The shoulder plate covered the entire upper part of the chest, as well as half the neck. It ended in a belt-buckle at that point. Within the bottom of the plate was encrusted a wonderful jewel—a sort of blue-green type that almost paid resemblance to a diamond, had it actually been one—which, the teen guessed, wasn't the case here.

Terrence stared at the suit in awe. Lucifer nodded his head slowly.

"I know what you're thinking," he replied. "You're probably thinking—"

"—That there is no way in Hell I'm doing this!" Terrence snapped at him angrily, shoving him aside. "You can take your power, man. Take it. But I _don't_ _belong_ here. I don't want to spend the rest of my days in Hell with you. I have a life. I have responsibilities."

"...And one of those responsibilities is to make sure that your little brother and his precious little friends are kept safely out of harm until I say so." Lucifer's eyes flashed.

"What?" Terrence stood ready for attack; he didn't care if this was Satan he was fucking dealing with. "What are you saying?!"

Lucifer remained completely calm—too calm for Terrence's standards. "Oh, I was just thinking that if you disobeyed my orders, we'd have their souls removed too. It's the first thing we do to you down here in Hell, once you die and are gone, of course. And believe me, it's a fate worse than _death itself_." His eyes were cold, careless. He shifted them onto Terrence.

Terrence sighed, then thought of Mac. God, he hated the kid, but at the same time—possibly sibling genetics—he loved him, though it was rare when he actually showed it. And he had remembered how frightened Mac had been when they had first come down here—oh, God, the look on his face...

He drew in a deep breath. His decision was final; he couldn't afford risking the soul of his little brother—or anyone else.

"I-I-I'll do it," he finally replied, sounding defeated. He hung his head.

Lucifer smiled and slowly stroked the boy on the back, his cold fingers yet again running down the stigmata. Terrence shuddered.

"Good boy," the demon replied. He then withdrew the clothes from the pole and tossed them in Terrence's direction. "Now, go to your sleeping chambers—third door from the left—and put these on. Your initiation will start at midnight tonight."

And with that, they were gone.

* * *

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we've traced the entire town and we can't find neither heads nor tails of your boys." The bulky police officer lowered the brim of his hat and shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid that we're going to have to report them as missing persons."

"You didn't find _any_ clues?" Mac and Terrence's mother seemed desperate. "You _had_ to have found at least one—"

"When we traced the younger boy's room, we found his shoe and his backpack. Nothing else." The second officer sighed. "My first hunch is that they were kidnapped, and by a damned good kidnapper, too. Didn't leave a _trace_ of evidence behind."

"_Please_ run a second search." The woman sounded desperate. "I have to know where the boys went...I've already lost my husband, and if they've been hurt—"

"We can't make any promises, ma'am," the first officer replied, closing his notebook, "but we'll conduct a second search of the town. There might have been some places we missed during our first search."

"Thank you," the woman replied; the officers smiled, nodded, and left, closing the door behind them. She sighed, then looked in the direction of Mac's bedroom, then Terrence's. The apartment seemed so empty with the two of them gone now...

And then she thought of Terrence the last evening—those massive bloodstains; that nervous look in his eyes, his inability to talk in detail about anything that happened. Could that have been the work of the exact same kidnapper? Did he come back to finish what he started with Terrence and take Mac, too?

She hoped to Heaven not.

"Please," she whispered to herself, staring in the direction of Mac's bedroom, "don't take my boys..."


	7. Initiation

**THE DEVIL'S REIGN**

**By Grand High Idol**

**_"Then I felt I was in a trance_**

_**And my spirit was lifted from me,**_

_**And if only someone had the chance**_

_**To witness what happened to me..."**_

_**—Iron Maiden, "Dance of Death"**_

**VI.**

Terrence's sleeping quarters were (he had to admit) much nicer than the other décor used in the area. Indeed, it felt like a room fit for a prince—hellish or not. Blood-red velvet curtains were draped about the room—on the ceiling, cascading down the walls like silky waterfalls of red. The floor was made of a fancy polished tile, the walls of stone. Several stone statues were spread throughout the room, along the walls—knights in armor, rams with glowing ruby eyes, and one creature that he couldn't exactly identify. A large painting of Lucifer decorated one wall, surrounded by black candles. In the center of the room lay an enormous king-size bed, complete with satin sheets, silk pillows: overall the most luxurious piece of work the boy had ever seen.

Having spent most of his life in that run-down city inside that stuffy apartment, one would expect the young teen to be enjoying his time in the lap of luxury. And he would have, too—had he not been so choked up about what he was doing. The suit from the room of the Befallen Ram felt tight on him; almost too tight, as if it were burning into his skin. He sighed in defeat and slowly reached up to tighten the belt that held up the chain mail around his neck, standing in front of a gold-and-silver mirror.

Terrence. Satan's heir.

He sighed again and gently brushed a strand of hair back from his face. It was for the best, he decided. He narrowed his eyes. I can't risk Mac's soul, or anyone else's. I have to do this _tonight_.

A few light tapping sounds came from behind his door. "Terry?"

Terrence cringed—and not just at the act of being called "Terry". The voice that came from behind the door was incredibly seductive—a soft, warm, lofty female voice, incredibly sexy. Terrence bit his lip for a moment, then finally called "Yeah?"

"Terry, hun, Lucifer asked me to come in and check on you. Do you mind if I do that?"

Terrence was beginning to sweat with nervousness. "No...I don't...mind..." he said slowly. _Damn, whoever this lady is, she has to be a FOX_. He abruptly licked his hand, then reached up and tried to smooth out his hair.

"Good." A foxy giggle came from the other side of the door before it finally creaked open. Terrence whipped to face the figure as she stepped into the room, softly shutting the door behind her.

Terrence was close when he had said that the woman was a fox—except, now, he couldn't tell if she was a woman at all. She looked more like a large cat that somehow managed to erect itself onto its hind legs and take on human anatomy in the body. The teen traced her down from her feet all the way up to her head.

Her figure was perfect—she must be very athletic, he thought to himself. She had full thighs, muscular arms, large breasts, and a thin neck. Her cat features were mostly in her face—she had pressing green eyes with narrow pupils, a velvety pink nose, and soft, fluffy ears protruding from her head. Her fur—which was all over her body—was a brilliant ebony shade, giving off flecks of blue and silver in the light. It slightly contrasted with her hair, which was a reddish-brown and fell down to the back of her waist, freely. She wore nothing but a very short, sleeveless tube-top and ancient slip, both endowed with lovely patterns. An ancient gold medallion encircled her fragile neck. Her tail—the other part of her that proved she was indeed of cat origin—flicked slightly at his presence, then settled. She brought both dainty hands in front of her and flashed him an incredibly seductive smile.

_Wow. Oh WOW_. Terrence was speechless.

The cat-woman giggled again. "Not much of a talker, are you?"

"I'm...um...er..."

"Oh, no need to introduce yourself, we already know all about you." She extended her hand. "My name is Ancedonia—"She pronounced the name as Anne-Donya—"the Seductress. I'm one of the Seven Deadly Sin Posse, representing the Sin of Lust." She smiled. "The other six Sins are simply _dying_ to meet you." She giggled again at her little joke, her tail swishing.

_Oh God I feel like I just walked into a nudie bar what do I do what do I _do, Terrence thought frantically, his eyes darting in all directions. _Just don't look at her breasts don't listen to her voice don't think about what a fox she truly is—_

She purred and rubbed her tail against his leg, showing off her nicely molded ass. Dear God. "You know, perhaps after the initiation we could get together and _really_ hit it off. Know what I mean?" Her emerald eyes sparkled mischievously.

Terrence grinned weakly, sweating profusely. _Don't do it in the suit not in the suit oh God not in the suit—_

"Anne!"

Terrence whipped to face Lucifer, a much more calming sight; in a brief moment he had relaxed. Ancedonia pouted (that sexy pout that drives practically everyone wild at parties) in Lucifer's direction. The demon, however, seemed unamused.

"Ancedonia, you are _not_ allowed in any of the sleeping quarters during preparations and you _know_ that just as well as _I_ do!" Lucifer snapped at her. He reached out and roughly grabbed her by the arm, flinging her in the direction of the doorway. He then approached Terrence, who was still staring after her in shock.

"Looking good, my boy," Lucifer told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Terrence stared into the mirror helplessly.

"I look like a freak," he replied glumly. Lucifer laughed and slapped him on the back.

"Don't feel so down, boy! Today's a day of great happiness among those in Hell!"

"Not for me." Terrence muttered the words under his breath, staring down at the floor.

"Never matter, then." Lucifer had suddenly turned serious. He placed a hand on Terrence's shoulder and began to lead him toward the door. "Come, boy. They're waiting for us at the ceremony."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Mister Guard, sir, but I believe that these are _mine_."

Berry grinned and stuck her tongue out at the muscular guards as the door to the cell was swung open, and one by one Mac, Bloo, Frankie, Wilt, Coco, and Eduardo were ushered out. Mac looked up at the guards, gave a weak smile, then saluted them and started down the hallway, Berry in the lead.

"I can't thank you enough for this, Berry," Mac told the fluffy magenta creature as they began to ascend the steps that led down into the Prison of the Soulless. "It kinda makes me feel bad about what happened, you know, with the—"

"It's all in the past now," Berry replied, smiling. "Right now this is the present and we've got nothin' left to lose. Now, just follow my lead and—whoop!"

She backed up against Mac, who backed up against Frankie, who backed up against Eduardo, almost causing the lot of them to crash down the stairs. Just as the redhead was about to open her mouth, demanding an explanation, Berry leapt up and tilted her head in the direction of the doorway, now ajar.

The redhead couldn't see much, just row upon row of red-cloaked...priests, were they...? walking by in single-file rows, an eerie, monotonous chant coming from their invisible lips:

"_Praevenire nobis, puer de Satanas. Praevenire nobis, puer de Satanas_."

Mac looked over Berry's shoulder. "What...what are they doing?" he asked.

"Yeah, they sound like zombies, man," Bloo added, nodding. "What's the deal?"

"I—I've never seen this before," Berry replied nervously, "but I think I read about it once....you see, well, during an initiation to the Satanic Circle it's essential for all of the important leaderships in Hell to come. I believe that these are some of the lowers—the undead, you might say." She glanced back at Bloo. "Maybe that's why they sound like zombies, eh?"

"What are they saying?" Frankie asked her. "It sounds almost like—"

"It's Latin." Berry shook her head. "That's all I know."

"I no going out there," Eduardo said from behind them, visibly quaking. "Es too scary."

"Aw, come on, Ed, it's okay," Wilt replied, taking hold of Eduardo's hoof. "I'm sure that they won't hurt us if we just step out the doorway."

"We can, but we have to stay out of the way," Mac told them. "I don't trust these guys any more than I trust Bloo with my bicycle."

"Oh, and that happened ONCE—"Bloo began, sounding peeved, but he was immediately halted midsentence.

"Shh!" Berry placed a finger to her lips, then looked out toward the hall. "Okay, let's go."

Nodding, the others quietly followed after her, past the marching rows of red-cloaked beings and toward the direction of another hallway. Halfway she turned left, then right—it was like walking through a fucking _labyrinth_. Eventually, however, they found themselves directly across the hall from an enormous brass door, lined with gold and sporting stone rams' heads for knobs. It was currently closed at the moment, but Mac could plainly see that this was the direction in which the undead were walking toward.

"Whatever's going on, Bloo, it's in there," Mac whispered, pointing toward the door. "What did you say was going on in there again?"

"It's bad, Mac, real bad," Bloo replied nervously. "I don't know what they're going to do, or how they're going to do it, but it involves Terrence. And I don't like the sound of that at _all_."

"Yeah...Lucifer dragged us down here to lure Terrence to us. But what I don't understand is what they want with him, exactly. What did you say they wanted again—something about being the 'Chosen One' or something...?"

"I don't know—"

"Quiet!" Berry hissed at them, clapping her paws over both of their mouths. She then turned around in time to see Lucifer enter the room, followed by several others that were currently unidentifiable. As soon as the doors closed, two of the guards immediately stepped in front of it, blocking access. The others shrank back against the wall.

"Look, I don't know what we're getting ourselves into, but it's _not_ okay," Wilt whispered, his voice quaking in fear.

"Quiet!" Berry repeated, leaning her head toward the door. "Someone else is coming."

* * *

_Lordy, why am I _doing_ this?_

Terrence, now cloaked in blood-red velvet, trod slowly down the hallway, guards on either side of him. Even though Lucifer had told him that he would hardly feel the process, he still felt like a man on his death walk. God knows what the process would do to him—would it erase his memory? Alter his genetic code? Demolish his soul?

They stopped in front of the door. The teen's gaze shifted from one guard to the next, then he swallowed hard, staring at the stone knobs. Underneath the cloak, one of his fists continued to clench and unclench in a fit of determination mixed with nervousness.

_I will not run away._

The doors creaked, then slowly began to open.

_I will not run away._

He shut his eyes tightly, trying to conceal his fear.

_I will not run away...not run away..._

"Step inside, boy."

* * *

"I _need_ to get in there." Mac's eyes were pleading as he locked them on Berry's. "I _need_ to."

Berry sighed, then shook her head. "I already told you, we can't. Mortals aren't allowed in the ceremonial hall, and besides, even if we _did_ manage to get in, the very _atmosphere_ of that place is hypnotic. You'd be in a half-dead trance for...well, a berry long time." She looked up at him, apologetic. "I'm sorry, Mac. I really wish I could help you this time, but..."

"Please. Terrence doesn't deserve this." Mac's voice cracked. "Nobody deserves this."

Berry looked back at him, then hung her head sadly. Frankie looked defeated for a moment as well—however, this didn't last long. Frankie was a strong thinker, and, having turned the problem over in her head, eventually found a solution.

"We c_an_ get in there." She placed a hand on Mac's shoulder. "I think I know how we can block out the atmosphere from our hearing range."

Mac smiled brightly at her; she got back up, then turned around and gently pulled Wilt's head down to her height. "Wilt, I'm really sorry..."

"Oh, that's okay—"Wilt stopped. "Wait...for what?"

"For this." Frankie smiled weakly, then reached out and tore a large chunk of fur from Wilt's cheek. He gave a yelp of pain, then leapt back, rubbing the spot with his good hand.

"Oh man—I'm sorry, but could you at least have _warned me_ first?!"

"It's okay, it'll grow back," Frankie replied. She then began shifting the crimson fur through her hands, dividing it up into smaller, thicker tufts. She tossed two of them to each member of the group.

"What do we do with 'em?" Bloo asked.

"Stick 'em in your ears," Frankie replied, doing exactly as she was saying. "The fur should be thick enough to block out any hypnotic attacks."

"How berry resourceful!" Berry giggled, lifting one of her ear tufts to insert the plugs. She frowned. "But I still don't know how we're gonna get in."

Mac, once having inserted the plugs, looked around for a moment, then finally reached a logical solution. "Hey, I know!" he exclaimed, pointing at the blood-red curtains that hung from the walls. "If we were in robes like those other guys back near the prison, I'll bet the others wouldn't be able to tell us apart from them!"

"Good idea, but you'd better hurry," Frankie replied. "I don't know how long those guards are going to stay in that room."

Mac nodded, then rushed out into the hallway, gripped the bottom of one of the curtains, then yanked. The thing was immediately unhitched from its post and collapsed on top of him; he climbed out of it, sputtering, then dragged it back into their hallway and set it on the ground.

"Okay, now just rip it apart," Mac replied. "I think the rest will take care of itself."

* * *

Within a matter of minutes, the group was inside and seated in the back, cloaked heavily in bits of the velvet curtain. The guards had been designed for brawn but were, in nature, dumb brutes, and had allowed them in, unaware of their true identities. Mac, pulling the velvet curtain tighter over his head as so to conceal his features, slowly rose up and looked toward the front of the room.

The place was definitely eerie, no doubt about that. It reminded him of a dark cathedral from an old horror movie—the place was draped in black-and-red velvet curtains, decorated with human and animal bones, and smelled strongly of dried blood. It had a high ceiling; the top of which was carved a horrendous mural. The only light came from the rows upon rows of candles aligned along the edges of the walls, and in the front of the room lay a stone altar, where Lucifer, clothed in blood-red, currently stood. His features appeared even darker under the candlelight; his cold grin mortifying. Terrence stood at the bottom of the altar in front of him, his head bowed, still draped in the cloak. His back was to them; Mac could not make out his features, but he was positive he could sense fear in the room.

There was a moment of silence before Lucifer raised his head to the creatures in the audience and spoke, loudly, clearly: "Children of Hell!

"Today is a day of glory for our kind. After many centuries of searching I have, at last, located an apprentice, and after nearly a decade of loss I have, once again, found him. Let there be praise!"

"_Laus puer de Satanas_!" the crowd chanted. Terrence turned his head slightly; Mac could now clearly see that he was petrified.

"The traditional ascension of the Befallen Ram will now begin!" Lucifer exclaimed. He whipped his head toward Terrence. "Boy! Remove the cloak!"

Terrence gave a light nod, then allowed the cloak to fall from his shoulders, giving the room a clear view of the sacred suit. There were several murmurs in the crowd; Lucifer continued:

"As we all must learn, we are all made from blood and bone. The blood of the very first ancestors is the blood we currently share. And _all_ blood must be shared in order for us to thrive, no matter _how much shed_." He turned his gleaming eyes onto Terrence, who stared back at him helplessly. "And shed we shall."

He reached into the folds of his cloak and, from within it, withdrew a stone dagger. The demon then turned around and slowly removed a skull from the table; its cranium sliced open as so to act like a goblet, of sorts. Setting the skull atop the altar, he raised one of his pallid hands above it, then, with the aid of the dagger, slit open his palm. Thick droplets of blood fell from the open gash into the "goblet"; as soon as six drops had fallen he withdrew his wounded appendage. Clenching his bleeding hand shut, he then walked down to Terrence, dagger at ready.

The teen, realizing what he was going to do, shied back a step and mouthed the word "No", but Lucifer apparently wasn't going to take this for an answer. Reaching out with his bleeding hand, he seized the boy's right arm, forced open his hand, then brought the dagger down across his palm.

Terrence emitted a muffled groaning noise, his eyes shut tightly, as Lucifer allowed the teen's blood to fall and mix with his own. Once his count had exceeded Lucifer's the demon slowly closed his bleeding hand, then loosened his grip. The teen brought his hand down to his side, teeth clenched.

Lucifer held up the skull. "The blood has been joined," he announced, then passed the skull down to Terrence. "Now join with us, boy. Drink."

Terrence's mouth dropped open slightly, and he mouthed the word "What?!", his features set in disgusted shock. Lucifer snarled at him, and he cringed slightly. Deciding not to anger the demon at this moment, he raised the bloody skull to his lips and downed the liquid.

It was pure revulsion; the teen clutched at his throat and emitted several silent gagging sounds. Lucifer smiled coldly, then set the skull back down atop the altar, reaching for another item. He held up the object in front of the crowd; looking close, Mac could see that it was some sort of silver jeweled medallion, endowed with a square crucifix. Lucifer hung the item around Terrence's neck.

"You, boy, are not a mortal. You are a powerful creature, hell-bent on suffering and destruction." He turned around and removed the final item—a jeweled band carved from stone—and faced the teen again, holding the item over his head. "You are _perfection_. The only thing holding you back is your mortality. But that shall soon be fixed."

He slowly set the item on Terrence's head; the teen remained still. "The time is now. Do not think. Do not breathe. Do not speak. Your mind must be clear; your body must be at peace. Are you at peace, boy?"

"Yes," Terrence murmured.

"Good." Lucifer's grin seemed to widen; he extended his cut hand in Terrence's direction. "Now be still. You won't feel a thing."

"_NO_!"

A loud, protestant cry came from the back of the room, as Mac threw off his robe and ran forward, provoking the shock of practically every creature in the audience. The little boy leapt in the direction of the altar. "You can't do this! You can't!"

Terrence, snapping out of his "peace of mind", whipped his head in the boy's direction. "Mac?"

"Restrain him!" Lucifer barked. One of the guards stepped forward and grabbed Mac by the arms, pulling him back toward the end of the room. The demon could see that Terrence was concerned; damn that kid! If he had to get this done, he had to do it _now_. Raising his hand over Terrence, he chanted the final words:

"_DOMINATIO PER MALUM_!"

Terrence opened his mouth, but his entire body froze in place at the last word. As if driven by a telekinetic force, his head snapped upward, his body straightened, and his eyes snapped open. Slowly, gently, he was risen off the ground by invisible hands. He tried to struggle out of the forceful grip, but it was proven useless; it was just like the trance that the Soul Stealer had put him in earlier. He couldn't move a muscle.

The movement finally stopped halfway upward. He remained still for a few more moments, then his upper body snapped backward and a flash of white light was released from the jewel encrusted in his chest plate. His eyes closed, his body fell limp. He hung suspended, halfway from the ceiling, like a marionette.

A flash of black energy then erupted from the floor, engulfing the teen for a brief moment before rising to meet the white light. The two seemed to form into shadowy figures as they were released; the black one paying resemblance to a ram, the white one to Terrence himself.

The two flashes darted upward, then joined and swirled together, creating quite a display of flashes in the room. The crowd stared up in amazement; Mac and the others in shock, Lucifer in smug satisfaction. Once the two had joined into a thick gray mist, the flashes ceased. The mist remained still in the air for a short while, then began its descent back downward, striking the jewel direct-center.

There was another white flash before Terrence finally dropped to the ground, his body still limp as a ragdoll's. The atmosphere slowly returned to its normal state, as Lucifer descended from the altar and stood in front of the body, his features still smug.

Mac thrashed to get out of the guard's grip, but it was pointless. "You bastard!" he shrieked angrily, kicking the air. "What did you _do_ to him?! What did you _DO_?!"

"The boy will be all right," Lucifer replied, his face expressionless. He snapped his fingers. "Take the boy back to his sleeping quarters. Imprison the younger one. I think I have something _special _in mind for him."

Another guard slowly lumbered forward, then scooped up Terrence's body and began to walk to the back of the room. Mac continued to thrash as the second guard dragged him out after.

From within her cloak, Frankie uttered a harsh sigh.

"Oh God," she murmured, "what have we gotten ourselves into...?"


	8. A Setup

**THE DEVIL'S REIGN**

**By Grand High Idol**

**VII.**

Terrence awakened a few hours later on the couch.

_Couch?_

Sitting up groggily, he looked around. Yes, this was the apartment—but what of the other things that had happened? Were they just fantasy, a figment of his mind, hallucinations of the fear from the voice? He didn't know.

He stretched, then shook his head. The television was on; he could hear muffled voices coming from the speakers. Muttering to himself, he trudged over toward the hallway, turning toward the direction of Mac's room. Door still intact, chair still where he had left it—seemingly normal. He heaved a sigh of relief, then flung open the door to his room—

He was met by a splash of dark liquid landing on the front of his shirt.

Giving a cry of surprise, he leapt back, then tugged his shirt away from his chest to examine the liquid. Blood. Dear God, it was _blood_. He shuddered slightly, then reluctantly took a step or two closer into the room. He was now standing directly on the threshold, more of the dark blood puddling around him as he stood.

He could now hear more muffled, faraway cries—and this time they weren't coming from the television. Looking around, he could see nothing but darkness, and, inhaling deeply, decided that it was best to find out what was going on. He took another step forward, now half into the darkness, then heard himself call out:

"Do you _like it_?"

His voice mirrored smug satisfaction; he immediately clapped both hands to his mouth, but the moans responded to him, unintelligible; he figured that it wasn't anything too good. Gritting his teeth in nervousness, he whipped around and was about to make a break for the hallway when a pair of skeletal hands grabbed him from behind.

He gave a shriek of terror, then whipped around to face the being. He couldn't see the face; it was cloaked by a silvery-gray robe and shrouded in darkness. The being emitted a low sound—a grunt mixed with a snarl—then tugged him backward, causing him to fall onto his back.

He landed hard, needless to say. Winded, he gasped and tried to struggle to his feet, but another force immediately pinned him down. The teen tried to break free of the thing's grip, and it was proven in vain. Terrified, he opened his mouth to scream—

He choked. A coppery taste filled the back of his throat, cutting off his respiratory system. He gagged, coughed, but the taste remained in his mouth, thick, so very thick...

The force released him. He bolted upright, then clutched at his throat, trying to force the taste out...and found that it had been sliced open horizontally. He could feel the spongy tissue of the muscle, the bone, even the ruptured blood veins...

_NO!_

Still struggling to breathe, he fell onto his back again, clutching his throat, trying to stop the blood from pooling in his throat, spraying from his wound...in a matter of thirty seconds, he had fallen still.

* * *

With a loud gasp, Terrence bolted upright, covered in cold sweat. He looked around frantically—no, no, this wasn't his bedroom anymore; this was his new sleeping quarters. Tenderly he placed his hand to his throat and rubbed at it. No blood, no rips or tears in the flesh.

It had only been a nightmare. Heaving a sigh of relief, he relaxed a little bit and turned to the side.

"Oh, my GOD!"

He almost shouted these words, but the furry dark-gray paw near his jaw prevented that. Next to him, on the bed, lay Ancedonia—still fully clothed, thank God—and looking rather seductive (no duh there, he thought, she _was_ a seductress, after all). She was now rubbing at Terrence's jaw, seeming to savor every moment of it.

"I thought you'd never wake up," she purred, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"Ancedonia—what—who let you in here?" Terrence demanded, shimmying away from her a few inches, the blankets drawn close to his chest as if they'd already been walked in on. "This is a _private_ wing."

"No wing's too private for _me_." Ancedonia grinned at him, slowly walking her slender paw over toward his hip. "Now, come on, baby, lay it on me."

"What?!" Terrence backed away from her, almost falling off the bed. "Look, Ancedonia, as good as that sounds, I'm not that kind of guy...I mean...gah...just get out of my room!"

"Not until you do your share." Ancedonia lowered her head, her green cat-like eyes still burning deeply into his. "Or don't you swing that way, hun? Because I'm pretty sure that if I don't get to do you, my brother Ardon will be _more_ than happy to do so."

Terrence jumped off the bed, still concealing himself despite the fact that he was wearing boxers. "You are sick!" he exclaimed, pointing at her. He backed up near the fireplace. "You are just screwed up! If you want to get laid, you're in the wrong place, lady. Now get _out_ of my room!"

Ancedonia's eyes flashed again, this time in anger, and within a flash she was up on her feet and had pinned Terrence to the wall, one of her knees slammed up his crotch. Terrence gave a slight squeak, but kept his mouth shut as Ancedonia grabbed him by the sides of the head, then drew his face close to hers.

"You're quite the rebel, aren't you?" she growled. She whipped him around to face the bed. "Well, I'll tell you something. I am _Lust_. You _can't_ resist me. _No man alive or dead_ can resist me."

She then shoved him forward, throwing him onto the bed. He landed on his back, and she landed atop him, her face close to his, her breasts nearly grazing his neck. She licked her lips slightly, then finally said, sounding starved, "Now _kiss me_."

She brought her mouth down onto his, kissing him hard. So hard, in fact, that it hurt. He whined slightly and tried to free himself, but she was directly atop him; there was nothing that he could do about it. The whore was about to reach down and remove his boxers when the door flew open, and another strange anthrop-woman—this time paying resemblance to a jackal—strode in.

Ancedonia stopped what she was doing immediately and thrust herself upward, standing alert. The jackal-woman stared at her, her yellow eyes cold, as she circled the bed, then finally came to a stop in front of Ancedonia. For awhile neither of them spoke, their eyes burning into each other's like hot coals on paper.

Finally, the jackal-woman opened her mouth. "And just what in Hell's name did you think you were _doing_?"

_Good. So there isn't going to be a three-way session after all_. Terrence heaved a sigh of relief and adjusted his boxers.

Ancedonia seemed angered by this. "Sister, how dare you enter just as I begin my hunt for pleasure!" she growled. "The boy is mine. All of the men in this area are _mine_."

"You always say that, you whore," the jackal-woman replied, folding her arms. "I'm here on orders. Lucifer thought that there was something afoot, so he sent me to check out the sleeping quarters of the higher officials—just as well, I might add!" She hooked a strand of her hair—cropped short and a lively blond color—and twirled it with one of her fingers. "You're not supposed to enter the Apprentice's room after initiation; you'll taint the bloodstream!"

Ancedonia glared at her coldly, then flipped her head upward in disgust and, with a swish of her tail, was gone. The jackal-woman stared after her, then looked over at Terrence, who had stopped near the fireplace to warm up.

"I'm terribly sorry, your Lordship," she replied, giving a light curtsy to him. "I hope she didn't cause you any trouble."

Terrence blinked, then shook his head. "Um...no...no, no really." He grinned weakly. "You know, I really should thank you—you saved my freaking life back there."

"Well, it's not likely," she laughed, "but I accept it with honor. Oh!" She placed a hand on her chest. "Silly me, I never realize that I haven't introduced myself until it's too late. Your Lordship, I am Frida, the Vain. I too am one of the Seven Deadly Sin posse, representing the sin of Envy." She smiled. "I must say I envy _you_. I wish I owned just _half_ of what you currently possess."

"Yeah...yeah, it's great." Terrence rubbed the back of his head, then finally added, "Uh, could you...um...get out now? I kinda don't want to be bothered for the rest of the night, if you know what I mean..."

"I understand, your Lordship." She curtsied again, then headed toward the door. "And, you need not worry. I shall keep my sister under wraps."

"Yeah, you'd better," Terrence muttered, as the door shut behind him. He pulled the blankets over his head and tried to fall back asleep, but it was useless; he felt too rushed now that he had snapped back into consciousness. It was almost as if a severe amount of adrenaline had been injected into his system; his entire body quivered with anticipation.

He looked over to the side, and saw the garments of the suit draped over a claw-toed stool. Twitching slightly, he arose from the bed and walked over to them, gently running his hands over the material. He wanted to put it on again, take the adrenaline for a test-run before heading back to sleep, but he knew that he mustn't...

What the hell. It wasn't like anyone would miss him. He snatched the garments off the stool.

* * *

The dining hall of Foster's was dark. It was long past dinnertime, but Mr. Herriman continued to sit at the table, in the dark, his face expressionless, his hands clasped in front of him. The only light came from the hallway, which filtered into the room like a child's night-light. The rabbit remained completely still, waiting, listening, as a silhouette appeared in the doorway.

"Mr. Herriman...?" The voice was soft, girlish. He had to assume that this was the pink chipmunk imaginary friend from last time.

"Come in," he said quietly, though still managing to keep his intelligent air about him. The pink chipmunk friend slowly stepped into the room, and then said, softly, "Madame Foster has already gone to bed hours ago, sir. What are you doing in this room all by yourself?"

Mr. Herriman sighed. "It's not any pressing matter with you," he replied seriously. "Miss Francis, Masters Wilt and Eduardo, and Miss Coco have been out there a long time searching for that little nuisance...it's almost...what time is it...?" He checked the clock nearby. "Ah! Five in the morning."

"And they still haven't returned?"

"I'm afraid not." The rabbit shook his head, then stood up. "I'm afraid that if this continues, I'll be forced to send out another search party." He hopped to the doorway, where the Friend was standing. "Now then, you know that you're not supposed to be up at this hour! Off to bed with you!"

The pink chipmunk nodded quietly, turning around and heading back upstairs to the sleeping quarters. Mr. Herriman watched her as she left, sighed, then hopped out of the dining room and past the hallway, heading for his office. On the way he passed Frankie's room, and decided to take a peek inside.

Empty. Dark and empty. The bed was set for her, her stuffed animals set in order at the head, but she was no longer there to sleep in it. He glanced at the animals, with their phony stitched-on smiles and button eyes. The rabbit shivered slightly, then silently shut the door behind him.

"Oh, Madame," he sighed, covering his face with one gloved hand. "How could your granddaughter have led them into such a horrible mess...?"

* * *

"Bloo, we can't."

"Yes, we _can_." Bloo's voice was edgy with determination as they stood at the top of the stairs to the Prison of the Soulless. "We can't leave Mac for dead here. He's my best friend and we made a solemn vow to be there for each other 'till death do us part."

"Listen, Bloo, I know that Mac means as much to you as he does to us, but we have to think reasonable!" Frankie knelt down to face him. "It took Berry all she had to free us, and even then we made a close shave. Thank God that the curtains allow us to blend in with those cloaked weirdoes."

"And since Lucifer has something planned for him, I'm afraid I can't ask Thanatos to release him," Berry remarked sadly. She placed a paw on Bloo's shoulder. "I'm berry sorry, Bloo."

"It's alright, it's not your fault," Bloo muttered. He leered in the direction of the adjacent hallway. "It's Terrence's. If it weren't for that creep Mac would still be at home and we'd still be at Foster's."

"We're gonna need to find a place to hide out while we keep watch over Mac," Frankie said, getting to her feet. "Maybe we can make a little campout under the stairs. The steps feel pretty hollow to me." She tapped one of her shoes on the stone to prove her point.

"Yes, and the darkness should conceal us berry well," Berry added. Her eyes lit up. "That's a perfect idea!"

"Come on, let's go downstairs before someone else comes," Wilt urged nervously. "I'm sorry, but I don't know how long we can keep up this little shenanigan. Did you see the way those other guys looked at us?"

"Okay. Right, then." Frankie quickly descended the steps, the others following her, until they had reached the bottom. Frankie then got on her hands and knees and crawled into a hollow area under the stairs, surrounded by stalagmites and rather dank, but it would do. She sighed, then removed her disguise and laid it out on the floor to prevent any further dripping.

The others soon followed, Bloo first, followed by Berry. He helped her up as Wilt, Eduardo, and Coco entered; Coco immediately padded over to a corner and nestled herself down there. Eduardo lay in the back; Wilt was a bit too tall for the space provided and had to sit down awkwardly in order to fit himself in. Bloo and Berry headed over to one of the stalagmite walls, then threw off their disguises. Berry curled up into a ball and immediately fell asleep; Bloo, on the other hand, looked through the opening, keeping watch on the cells.

"How do we know which one's Mac's?" Frankie asked him.

"Simple," Bloo replied. "Just keep watching."

"Bloo, this is silly," Frankie replied, crossing her arms. "We're not going to get anywhere this way! Why don't we just find someone who's willing to help our cause and—"

"There IS no one willing down here," Bloo replied gravely. "That's the whole deal. Come on, Frank, it's us against all the underworld now. And I know that I'm not letting me _or_ my little buddy go down without a fight."

"Quite perseverant, aren't you?" Frankie muttered to herself, before finally curling up next to Wilt and dozing off. Eventually, Bloo was the only one left awake, staring at the cells, staring, staring...

"Mac, I'm gonna get you outta there," he said softly. "Don't worry. Don't worry..."

* * *

Terrence didn't know what exactly that ritual had done to him, but he enjoyed it. Almost drug-happy, he had already covered half the area in a short amount of time. He felt much more agile, graceful, than he had been before. His thoughts were more carefree, his feet lighter. It was almost as if he had been in chains all his life and was now experiencing the taste of freedom first-hand.

Giddily, he sprang into a front-flip and landed on his feet, then turned to face his surroundings. He seemed to have wandered into the mining area—the entire place was doused in a red-orange light, and he could hear the moans of the Damned coming from down below. Somehow, he felt this comforting, and smiled a tad brighter.

"Enjoying your new powers, boy?"

Terrence froze, then turned to face Lucifer, who had approached him from behind. At first the teen thought that the demon was going to scold him for being out of the sleeping quarters, but he did no such thing. Instead, he walked forward and placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Yes, I figured that they would kick in once you regained consciousness. You feel better about yourself, do you not?"

"Much," Terrence replied honestly, now unsure of the conversation. His gaze shifted off to the side. "What...what exactly did you do?"

"It's going to take a lot of explaining if I told you everything," Lucifer replied, his grip tightening. "But in brief, I freed your soul, boy. I pushed everything that has hurt you to the bottom of your thoughts. I made you pleasure more the things you adore. Watching people suffer, for example." He grinned, his expression as cold as ice. "You see, once you were inflicted you were endowed with special powers...inhuman skills. We had to take several precautions in this field—hence the fact that you couldn't think straight for eight years."

He moved his hand upward to the boy's ebony hair, and gently ran his fingers through it. "But it's well worth it now. For years you bottled your rage, and now you've finally succumbed to it. And when the rage drains through your powers, boy, you are more deadly than any weapon or warrior I have ever _seen_."

Terrence still appeared slightly confused. Lucifer sighed, then jabbed one of his fingers in the direction of a tall clay statue. "Why don't you just figure this out for yourself. Concentrate on that statue over there, for example. You can focus now. That's it...now, although you're at a distance you can still inflict major damage. Think of anything destructive, anything at all, that you'd love to do to it." There was a moment of silence. "You have an idea?"

"Yeah, sort of." Terrence still seemed a tad perturbed.

"Good." Lucifer nodded in the statue's direction. "Now _do it_."

Terrence looked over at the statue, shut his eyes, sighed, then brought both hands forward and swept them to the sides. A jolt of electricity seemed to run through his system, a snarl escaped his throat, and in seconds a loud explosion was heard from across the room. Opening one eye, the teen could now see that the statue was completely demolished; nothing remained of it save a few precious dust clouds. Lucifer nodded, smiled, then looked at him.

"Bravo." He seemed quite satisfied with what Terrence had done. "Of course, you still need to learn to maintain control, which I can easily teach you." He began to head off toward one of the corridors. "Walk with me."

Terrence stood for a moment, then strode forward and walked alongside the demon, listening, and at the same time staring at his hands in shock. He'd never been able to do something like that before...perhaps that was the entire meaning of the ritual? To endow him with strange and unnatural powers? The whole thing seemed kind of strange.

_Do you LIKE it?_

He shivered slightly, despite the heat of the room, as they continued down the corridor. He hoped to God that whatever Lucifer had planned for him wasn't a thing like that horrendous dream sequence. He hoped to God...

"...Once you learn control, you will have mastered all I have to teach," Lucifer finally finished, his gaze shifting in the teen's direction. "And when that day comes, boy, I'll have something for you. Something _extra-special_." He grinned coldly, and his eyes seemed to flash with a hint of mischief.

"I don't understand..."

"You'll understand sooner than you think, boy." He clapped a clammy hand on Terrence's back. "You'll understand sooner than you think."

* * *

"Mac?"

The little boy groaned, then stirred, looking directly into a wall of color. Rubbing at his eyes, he found as his vision cleared that it was, in truth, not a wall, it was the door to his cell, and Bloo was looking at him through the bars. Mac looked at him for a few seconds, his mouth quivering.

"Hey there." Bloo reached his hand inside the cell. "How are you holding up, commando?"

Mac sighed and drew his knees close to his chest; a tear ran down his dirt-stained cheek. "Not so good, Bloo," he replied. "It wasn't exactly the best idea to do that, was it? Oh well...at least the rest of you got out okay." He hung his head slightly.

"Aw, come on, pal, cheer up!" Bloo said quietly. He took Mac's hand in his. "We're gonna get you out of there, or we're gonna die trying!" Mac smiled weakly. "That's the spirit! Now, listen, I think I came up with an idea. It's kinda crazy, but it just might work...you've got some extra gruel leftover from last night, don't you?"

"Bloo, it's really kind of you, but I don't think you'll be much help." Another tear ran down the boy's face. "Neither will any of the others. I don't think that I'm even gonna get out of this _alive_."

"No! Don't talk like that!" Bloo told him sharply. "Never talk like that! We promised to be there for each other 'till the very end, remember? And I plan to keep that promise. I'm gonna get you outta there, and if I die trying, so God help me!"

Mac crept up to the cell and grabbed the blob friend by the hands. "No, Bloo, you don't understand!" he remarked, through tears. "I'm not being released until the special event, and as soon as day breaks I'm going to be heavily guarded at all times."

"Well, maybe we can get you out during the 'special event' thingie," Bloo remarked. "What exactly were they planning on doing with you, anyhow?"

"They're going to kill me, Bloo," Mac stammered.

Bloo was silent for another few moments, then finally forced a weak laugh. "Ha-ha, very funny. But seriously, man, what are they planning on doing?"

"I already said it!" Mac shouted at him. "They're going to kill me! They're going to kill me...!" He buried his head in his hands and broke down into a fit of tears. Bloo, saddened by his friend's reaction but at the same time unable to help, shut his eyes and turned around to face the opposite cell.

"Oh." Was all he could manage to say.

_Mac...I'm so sorry..._


	9. My Brother's Keeper

**THE DEVIL'S REIGN**

**By Grand High Idol**

**"_Can you feel_**

_**The tension rise**_

_**Do you know why**_

_**We always fight?**_

_**To be better, better than you,**_

**_And you better than me_..."**

**—Kutless, "Not What You See"**

**VIII.**

The hold was strong. Terrence, sweat running down the side of his head, looked up at the hulking demon that towered above him, shivering in determination, waiting for the right chance to break free. The beast opened its mouth; a few droplets of yellow-white saliva trickled from between its massive fangs. The few strands of hair that it actually had were wild, static.

"Ardon CRUSH YOU!" it bellowed, its grip tightening. The teen could see that it wasn't kidding—he could actually feel his bones creaking from the pressure. Growling, the teen tried to get to his feet...no such luck; the blasted thing had to have weighed at least 300 pounds, possibly more. He groaned and struggled to break free.

"Remember, boy!" someone called from the distance. "Feel the power within you! Don't abuse it! Feel it! _Feel it_!"

Terrence shut his eyes tightly, ran his tongue over his teeth, then gave a loud shout of anger and bolted to his feet. A yellow-orange glow surrounded his body as he thrust both arms upward, sending Ardon, stupefied, down into the dirt. The demon shook his head, spit out a few stray pebbles, then snarled in anger, whipped around, and charged him, bellowing loudly.

Terrence stood at ready. Just as the demon leapt to body-slam him, he whipped up his hand, halting the demon in midair. Ardon looked down at him stupidly; Terrence grinned in smug satisfaction, then brought his hand down into the dirt. Ardon, naturally, ended up being slammed head-on into the ground, the impact causing him to burrow several inches. Terrence shut his eyes, sighed, then relaxed.

The glow surrounding his body faded; his tension ceased. He smiled at his work, then turned around in time to see Lucifer approach over the horizon, clearly impressed with the teen's accomplishments.

"Glorious, boy!" Lucifer praised. He looked down at Ardon, who was still lying facedown in the dirt. "You certainly seem to have given Ardon a run for his money. Impressive." He raised an eyebrow as his eyes met Terrence's. "Not even my best soldiers could withstand Ardon's force...he does represent the sin of Wrath, so it comes to him naturally. But yours, my boy, is so much stronger!"

"What? My force, or my wrath?"

"Both." Lucifer grinned coldly. "I see that you've learned well over the past few days. I think that you're ready for your special assignment now."

"You never told me what the assignment was," Terrence replied, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "What am I supposed to do? Slam it into the ground, pull it apart telepathically, gut it...?"

"Oh, you can do _anything_ you want with this particular target," Lucifer replied slyly. "For you see, this target is something you hate more than anything the world above and the world below have to offer."

"I hate a lot of things," Terrence replied skeptically, folding his arms. "That doesn't really tell me much at all."

The demon chortled. "Then I suppose it'll be a surprise," he replied. He placed a hand on the young teen's shoulder. "Now come, boy, I believe you need rest. You're going to need to be at your full potential for tonight's little match."

"I still wish you'd tell me," Terrence replied. "I mean, honestly. How am I supposed to concentrate on what methods to use if you won't even tell me what type of species it is?"

"Anything will work on this one," Lucifer replied coyly. He tugged at the teen's shoulder, leading him out of the room and into one of the corridors. "Now come. I want you to relax for a few hours."

* * *

Mac knew that he was going to die.

He knew it as he shared his last moments with Bloo. He knew it as the guards opened the door to his cell and tugged him out, ruthlessly prodding him to get him to move. He knew it as he saw Bloo, still visible from between the stalagmites, look at him, a look that stated he couldn't have been more sorry.

The little boy drew his gaze away from his best friend and looked down at the floor, tears beginning to cloud his eyes again. Their plans of escape would probably fail now, it seemed. Sooner or later someone would discover where the others were hiding, and they would meet their fate at the hands of the same executioner Mac had been assigned to. Poor Bloo...poor Frankie...poor Wilt, Coco, and Eduardo.

They were all going to die. All of them.

He was led to the door and forced down an opposite corridor. As he walked, looking at the horrific engravings on the walls, he thought of Terrence. Terrence...if it hadn't been for him they never would have been down here. Terrence had never been there for him...never. The teen hadn't cared about him since the day he was born. He didn't like Bloo either, obviously. Why, he probably wouldn't bat an eye when they suffered their fate.

"We're here," one of the guards grunted. Mac drew a deep breath, then slowly entered the room, head up. If he were to die, he was to die with honor.

* * *

"Wow, this really _is _great!" Terrence exclaimed with pleasure as he turned the steering wheel to one side. "Thanks for showing me about this, Dad!"

"See, it's really simple once you learn it." Mac and Terrence's father smiled at the two boys in the front seat, his ebony hair perfectly combed and slicked back, his brown eyes lively and mischievous. "By the time you get your driver's permit in a few years, Terrence, you'll be able to wipe the others off the streets!"

"He'll also be able to pick me up from school!" Mac added, laughing.

"Hey, just because I'll be the first one to have a driver's license doesn't mean I'm your little pack mule, okay?" Terrence replied, though there was a sense of good humor to his voice—something that had been lost long since then. "You get your own personal servant!"

The boys' father leaned forward to look out the front window. "My God, it certainly is foggy tonight," he proclaimed. "I hope we'll be able to make it back to town all right; I'm pretty sure that your mother wouldn't want you out so late in the evening—"

"I can take us home," Terrence replied. "Just let me up the gas a little and—"

"Oh, my _GOD_!"

"What the—?"

Terrence had no time to finish his sentence. Immediately he was lurched off to the side of the car as a heavy force struck the other side. There was a tremendous creaking noise shortly before the car tipped over entirely, provoking a deafening **CRASH** sound. He heard himself scream, heard Mac sobbing—

Blackness.

The next thing he could remember, he had unhitched his seatbelt and had crawled out of the car window, now hopelessly shattered, to go to the passenger's side and retrieve Mac. Bending down, he could now see Mac in the car, sobbing harshly the way frightened children do, and clinging for dear life to his seat. They seemed to subside, however, once he made eye contact with Terrence.

"Mac..." Terrence said slowly. Mac sniffled. "Mac, I'm gonna get you outta there. Just hang onto me, okay?"

Mac choked back another sob, then nodded his head. "Uh-huh."

Putting his arms around Terrence's shoulders, the older sibling went to work at undoing the straps that had bound Mac securely in place. In time, the last strap was unhinged and Mac dropped into Terrence's arms, still sniffling into the boy's black t-shirt.

Terrence looked out to face the highway. They were on a country road, not too far from the town where their home was located. The car had been smashed into a nearby wheat field, it seemed, and it was in total ruin. The entire left side had been totaled, and the structure itself looked as crushed as an empty tin can.

It didn't take a genius to figure out they had been in a car crash. Now there was only one thing left to do.

Setting Mac down gently, the boy patted him on the head before standing back upright. "Mac, I gotta go check on something. I gotta go see if Daddy made it."

Mac's eyes widened in fear as Terrence turned away. For he, too, was afraid. He hadn't heard his father at all, nor in movement nor sound, since the time of the crash. Perhaps he had already gotten out to find a nearby phone they could use? That would certainly seem like the appropriate thing to do at the time...

No. Terrence shook his head.

He'd never leave his kids alone in a totaled car. Never.

But what happened, then? He dreaded to find out.

"Dad...?" Terrence called, dropping onto his knees and looking into the back seat of the car. "Dad, where are—"

He was cut short by an abrupt gasp—coming from his own throat. His father, apparently, was dead, and had been totaled along with the car. His eyes were wide open, his side smashed in like a limp accordion, with several ribs poking out of his now blood-soaked shirt with the words that read "_World's Greatest Father_". Additional blood was trickling from his mouth downward, heading toward his forehead.

"Oh God—"Terrence murmured, before quickly drawing away and burying his face in his hands. He suddenly stopped, then looked down at his palms...they were bleeding. Blood was trickling from invisible wounds and running down his hands.

It took him a moment to realize that the blood in his hands was his father's.

"NO!" the young teen screamed, jerking his head away from the horrible sight. "I didn't! I didn't!"

_It's all your fault—_

"No!" Terrence howled. "No! I didn't do it! It was an accident, I swear! _It was an accident_!"

_You can't free me from yourself, Terrence. You can't free me from yourself!_

The sky suddenly seemed to grow dark. Terrence looked up toward the storm clouds fearfully, then back down at his father's corpse, still looking as grotesque as ever amongst the wreckage.

Then, suddenly, the corpse's head seemed to jerk. It turned, the bones in its now shattered neck cracking and shifting, as it faced Terrence, its eyes still wide open. Terrence shimmied away a few feet as it started to rain.

"Terrence..." the dried, blood-caked lips whispered hoarsely.

"Go away," Terrence said, shivering. "Go away! I know I wasn't perfect that time. I know that I shouldn't have offered to drive us back. I know that it was too foggy to drive and that I shouldn't have been out in the middle of the road on such a night but—but—"His eyes clouded with tears; he fought not to break down sobbing.

"Terrence..." The blood-caked lips and swollen tongue were barely able to make out these words. "It was never your fault. It never will be. Terrence, I want you to avenge me. Destroy the creature that stole me from you. Destroy the creature who stole my soul."

"What? How...?"

"I love you, Terrence. I trust you."

With that, everything faded into a comforting blackness.

* * *

"Wake up, boy."

Terrence groaned, then shook his head groggily. Once again, he had been dreaming; no longer was he lying on the muddy ground in an empty street. He was lying near the fireplace—too close for comfort, matter-of-factly. He quickly drew himself away from it and looked up—in time to face Lucifer.

"Oh! Uh...yeah..." Terrence really didn't know what he was saying. He got to his feet. "Um...what are you doing in here again?"

Lucifer gave a snort of frustration. "I'm here to tell you that it's time for your final performance," he replied. "Only then will you join us in our quest to make the world suffer, my dear boy."

"Oh, yeah, that." Terrence walked over toward Lucifer. "Listen, uh...I'm having second thoughts about this. I don't think that it would really be the best thing to—"

"Are you saying that you don't want to fight?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow, and the young teen could clearly sense the agitation that was building in his voice. Terrence bit his lower lip, then weakly nodded.

"Oh, I see. And why is that, exactly?"

_His calmness is making me fucking nervous_, the boy thought to himself, before finally replying, "I...I don't know. Something just came to me, and I think that it's best if I just don't fight tonight. I mean, seriously, I'm not really feeling at my—_AAH_!"

Lucifer's hand shot out and slammed him against the wall, forming a tight hold around his neck. The teen gave a gasp of pain, then looked up at Lucifer, whose face was eerily calm but whose eyes danced with the fire of rage.

"It's time for you to listen to _me_ now," Lucifer hissed through clenched teeth, his eyes widening. They seemed to take on a yellowish glow that Terrence found completely irresistible; he stared into the demon's eyes absentmindedly. "You were marked to do great things in this world. And I'll be an angel of Gabriel before I allow _any of that_ to go to waste!" He threw the boy down, his eyes still burning into the young teen's. "You _know_ what you must do. You must go. You must fight. And you must _destroy_!"

He released his hold; the teen slowly got to his feet, his eyes still glowing. "I...must...fight...." He murmured, sounding exactly like one of the undead zombies at the initiation. "I...must...kill...I must...destroy..."

"Now feel the rage, boy. Feel it. You're not going to get anywhere acting like a brain-dead fish."

Terrence was silent for a few moments. He shut his eyes, then reopened them. The yellow glow had been replaced with a red-orange glow, the glow of fire. He gave a low snarl, then cracked his knuckles.

"Let me at them," he growled, not sounding like himself at all—more like a highly demented axe murderer. Lucifer smiled.

"Good boy," he replied, nodding. He began to lead the boy out of the room. "Now, let's take you to your target before you start trashing the property."

* * *

There were demons...demons in red cloaks on either side of him. Mac, chained to the ground by heavy steel restraints, stood in the center of the room, shivering in fear, trying to hide himself from those empty eyes. He knew what they were there for, and he knew what they wanted the outcome to be.

The death of an innocent child in exchange for their entertainment.

_Hell is suffering_, Mac thought to himself. _Why did they ever bring me here? Why?_

He drew in a deep breath, faced the floor, then began to say his final words, under his breath. "If anyone is listening, anyone at all...I'm going to die down here. I'm going to die, and I'm afraid. I just want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Bloo...I'm sorry, Frankie...I'm sorry, Mom. I love you. I love all of you." He choked on a sob. "I'm so afraid..."

The doors then flung open, and Mac raised his head—and gave a gasp of shock as Terrence entered the room, expression cold as ice, head lowered demonically. Lucifer stepped in behind him.

"Terrence!" Mac called, hoping to get a response from his older brother.

Terrence remained motionless. Lucifer laughed cruelly.

"I'm afraid trying to reach your big brother won't help you now, child," he replied. "The boy is mine now. He doesn't care about you or your fate." He stepped off to the side, away from the young teen. "They say that you must save you from yourself. They say that you'll hurt the ones closest to you. And, tonight, my dear child, your brother is going to prove that true."

"No!" Mac cried, tugging at his chains. "He wouldn't!"

"He would." Lucifer nodded in Terrence's direction; Terrence growled and began to advance on the young boy. "The boy doesn't like you. He never liked you since the day you were born. And now he's going to eliminate you from his life once and for all."

"You're a monster!" Mac screamed angrily. "A MONSTER!"

"Thank you," Lucifer replied coyly. "And now, please, let us get to the killing."

Terrence snarled at him, his teeth bared, then charged and swung a fist, sending it directly into Mac's stomach. The boy gasped, winded, as his chains snapped and he fell to the ground, struggling to breathe. Terrence slammed the toe of his boot into the boy's back with great force, causing him to cry out and slide across the ground several yards. He lay, whimpering, as the teen advanced on him.

"Does it hurt, Mac?" he heard Terrence say. "Does it hurt?"

Mac groaned in response; he was in too much pain to speak.

"Good. I'm glad that it hurts, Mac. For years I've had to put up with you. For years I've had to put up with your _stupid_ imaginary friend. And now, I'll finally be rid of you _forever_."

"Terrence—"Mac began, but he was interrupted by another kick to the stomach. He gave a yelp of pain and doubled over, struggling to breathe, tears of pain sliding down his cheeks. He shivered for a few moments, then finally said, "Terrence, please...I'm your brother. You can't listen to Lucifer any longer!"

"Cad," was all the young teen replied. Reaching down, he picked Mac up by the scruff of his shirt, then tossed him, sending him slamming into a nearby rock. Mac gave a cry of anguish as a cracking sound issued from his left leg; he slid to the ground, clutching the broken area tightly.

He looked up through tear-clouded eyes in time to see Terrence advancing on him, hands glowing, ready to finish him off. He tried to remain calm and accept his death with dignity, but instead broke out crying, from fear, from pain, from betrayal.

"Terrence, stop this!" he howled between sobs. "You can't listen to him! You have to listen to yourself! Please, just try for me! Don't let him win! Don't let me _die_!"

Terrence continued to advance, then stopped. He stared at the shaking, crying heap that lay before him, cornered, helpless. For a brief moment Lucifer's spell over him faded, and he remembered the night after the boys' father had died...

Mac had been a wreck that night, he remembered—poor thing couldn't stop crying to save his life. He had remembered that night as he lay, watching the news on TV, that Mac snuggled up against him, had cried into his shirt, had shared that sentiment with him. Terrence, just as grief-stricken as he was but unable to show it, had hugged him back, ignoring the blare of the announcer's voice, the sound of cars on the slick roads, the sound of rain hitting the windows...

He stopped and lowered his hands. Several curious and surprised gasps and murmurs came from the crowd. Lucifer growled angrily.

"What are you waiting for?" he shouted. "Finish him!"

Terrence looked up at him, his gaze now melancholy. He looked down at Mac, then back at Lucifer, then finally nodded. The dark energy began to form around his hands again, as Mac whimpered and shielded his face for the final blow...

It never came. Instead of hitting Mac, Terrence whipped around and hurled the blast at Lucifer, who, out of shock, held up his hands to protect himself. The energy dissipated the second it passed through him; he was not harmed at all, but seemed rather infuriated with Terrence's attempt alone. He remained still, however, eyes glimmering with hatred as he watched the two boys.

Mac looked up at his older brother, who had now shut his eyes, his head lowered. "Terrence...?" he said softly.

"Mac," Terrence replied, his voice broken. He then dropped to his knees and—much to Mac's surprise—drew the little boy up into a close hug. "Oh God, Mac, I'm so sorry..."

Mac sniffled, then buried his head in Terrence's chest. Terrence drew the boy tighter, as a single tear fell from one eye...

"So," a voice behind them said darkly, "you _DO_ care."

Terrence and Mac whipped around to face Lucifer, who was now towering over them and not looking pleased at all. Red surrounding the brilliant green of his eyes, he took an angry step closer to Terrence as the boy arose.

"You miserable little CAD!" the demon screamed at him. "You were supposed to _destroy him! Kill him! Rip him to shreds_! I expected so much _better_ of you this time!"

Terrence glared at him angrily, then stood to face him. "I won't," he replied simply. "I can, but I won't. I don't give a _fuck_ about what you think down here; I'm not going to _kill_ my little brother for _your_ pleasure!"

Mac was unable to get up because of his wounded leg, but immediately his expression brightened. There were more murmurs from the crowd.

"Like it or not, the boy will DIE!" Lucifer snapped back at him. "And if _you_ won't take care of him, I suppose I shall have to take matters into my own hands. Guards!"

Immediately, a pair of the hulking creatures appeared in front of them. Lucifer snapped his fingers, then barked strictly, "Take the boy back to his sleeping quarters and _lock him inside_. The younger boy will be reserved for a sacrifice to Hell's Guardian come the Sabbath. Now GO!"

The brutes immediately seized Mac and Terrence, then began their trip to the back of the room. Terrence, snarling furiously, looked over the guards' shoulder at Lucifer, who once again had that look of smug satisfaction on his face.

_You fucking coward_, the teen thought to himself, furious, as the guards dragged them from the room, heading toward their separate corridors.


	10. Emotions Run Wild

**THE DEVIL'S REIGN**

**By Grand High Idol**

**"_Take all your enemies and_**

_**Lay them before me**_

_**And walk away**_

_**Walk away**_

_**Walk away…"**_

**—Breaking Benjamin, "Firefly"**

**IX.**

Terrence knew that they both were destined for fate this time. He was thrown into the room headfirst, landing rather hard on his stomach and becoming winded in the process. As he slowly arose to his feet, the lock clicked behind him, but that was no big deal. He crept over on his hands and knees and pressed an ear to the door.

"That oughta take care of that little wretch," he heard one of the guards grunt from behind the door, dusting off his hands.

"Indeed," the second guard replied. "How dare he defy Lucifer's whims! Lucifer made him all that he was—he even ordered the Soul Stealer to _kill_ the boy's father so that he could have a better shot at him. The _least_ he could do is obey a simple order!"

Terrence stopped, then brought his hands down, his mouth open in an aura of disbelief. Convulsions of sheer anger started racking his system. The talking continued:

"Yes, yes. I believe that the boy will prove of no use to the Master now. The smaller one, however, will make quite the sacrifice in order to make the scheme work."

"The blood of a child…" Terrence heard evil cackling from behind the door. "So pure, so _thick_ with emotion. Once the little boy has been slain and devoured, our quest will finally come to a close."

"But what shall become of the larger boy?"

"The Master has something _special_ in store for him," the guard cackled. "I do believe that he will enjoy it, no?"

"Yes."

The two hulking morons then burst out laughing; he could hear the clacking of their cloven hooves as they left down the hallway. Terrence slumped against the door, then fell to the ground face-first. He didn't want to get up. Not now, not ever again.

_It was all a lie_, he thought to himself, rising slowly to his feet. _It was all a _lie_. I was only brought down here to serve as their ticket to the world—_

He slumped down at the foot of a statue, a statue of a knight perched atop his horse. Terrence could only imagine what the poor knight's last visionaries would have been before he was dragged down here, horse with him, and petrified, serving life forever in frozen form. He leaned against the base, tears beginning to cloud his eyes.

"I understand now," he said softly, drawing his knees close to his chest. "I understand why I was brought down here. I was nothing more than their ticket to the world above." He drew himself tighter. "I never should have listened to the voice. I never should have trusted him. But what choice did I have?" Several tears escaped from his eyes and began to trickle down his cheeks, but he didn't care. Voices flashed through his head, voices of the past:

_"You expect me to believe that a thirteen-year-old boy was overpowered by an eight-year-old and his cute little imaginary friend?_

_"Mac, your brother is a big fat doofus!_

_"Did Daddy make it, Terrence? Did Daddy make it?_

_"I love you, Terrence…I trust you…"_

Love. Trust. Something he hadn't shown in years. He'd hated his life up above; why would he want to go back there now…?

Because he cared. For once in his life, he _cared_. Mac didn't deserve to be sacrificed, and neither did anyone else. He wanted them all to live; to be a family again, despite the fact that their father was long past gone. But what could he do about it now? The doors were locked, and if he knew Lucifer there was probably no way of escaping them. He didn't even bother trying his powers on the doors; he knew it would only draw more unwanted attention from the guards and surprise, he'd be in the exact same spot he'd started from.

No longer existed the face of a hard, wretched, mean boy; it had long since dissipated; melted away. The only thing that remained was the face of a frightened teenager, tears flowing from his eyes, pools of suffering within the steel-gray irises; the color of misery. He drew himself into a kneeling position, looking up toward the mural above.

"Dad…Mom…Mac…god, I'll even throw in Bloo…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

His voice broke on the last sentence, and with that, he hid his face in his hands and cried. Not the phony crying that he had so often used upon his mother, but the suffering wails of one who has done too much, seen too much, and cannot do a thing about it. The wails of an individual who is truly sorry—yet never would have the chance to apologize. Still sobbing uncontrollably, the teen dropped onto his stomach, his face buried in his hands.

"I deserve to die," he moaned. "I _deserve_ to die. None of you ever did…none of you…"

Then the blackness. Oh, the comforting blackness…

* * *

"It was a close call, Bloo. Almost _too_ close." 

Mac drew his arms tighter around his body, still shivering from the fear of recent events and the pain that continuously shot through his leg. Judging by the snapping sound it had made he had broken it; no questioning that. Bloo was once again standing in front of his cell, Berry accompanying him. Normally one would question as to what was going on, but as long as they remained silent and Berry hung around, nothing bad was to come.

At least, not yet. Mac had heard about his being the victim for a sacrifice, and, regardless, it hadn't calmed him down one bit. But he still felt that there was hope.

For Terrence had done something back there that he had never done before, not for months, possibly even years…

"Your brother loves you, Mac," Berry replied softly, leaning against the bars of his cell. "Believe it or not, he loves you. Nothing above or below could ever have changed that."

"I know, but…I just don't get it…" He fell back against an adjacent bed of straw, placing one hand on his forehead. "As long as I've known him he'd never shown any sentiment of any sort. But back there…I…it was almost as if he had _changed_, somehow. I mean, he's always beating up on me all the time, but just as he's about to do me in he decides to spare me…? That doesn't make any sense."

"Hey, I'm just as confused as you, man," Bloo replied, nodding. "If I'd known any better, Terrence would've killed you right on the spot."

"But he didn't. That's the whole point. He _didn't_."

"Once again, Berry is hopelessly ignored…" The magenta creature rolled her eyes as she muttered these words under her breath, then replied, "Mac, he didn't kill you because he _cares_ about you. Though he might not show it all the time, he really does. And that feeling, that feeling alone, is what kept him from destroying you."

"Are you crazy, man?" Bloo snapped at Berry. "Terrence doesn't care about Mac—heck, the whole reason I came into creation was _because _of that jerk! And now he suddenly decides to go all sentimental on Mac—well, I don't buy it!" He folded his arms. "No way, no how."

Berry's features hardened in utmost insanity, then she gradually softened up and clamped a paw tightly on Bloo's shoulder. "Listen, Bloo, I happen to know that he cares because—"

The hardened emotion suddenly rebounded back onto her. There was no controlling her emotions now; her ear tufts pricked, her eyes went wild, her joints stiffened, and her voice rose to a demonic shriek. "…BECAUSE I'VE BEEN DOWN HERE LONGER THAN _ANY_ OF YOU _EVER_ HAVE AND I'VE _SEEN_ WHAT HAPPENS!"

She calmed down, her eyes darting in all directions, then clapped her paws to her mouth and faced Mac and Bloo, both frozen stiff. "Oh! Oh, I'm ever so berry sorry…sometimes these things—they just slip out! Oh, I hope no one heard that…"

"Yeah, we're gonna have to work on that," Bloo replied, rubbing at the area where his ear should have been. "'Cause I _reeeeeeaaally_ don't like that."

"You're one to talk," Berry replied cynically, before facing Mac again. "So do you understand? You're going to be sacrificed, no doubt about that, but have hope! Have faith in your brother! I'm sure that he'll never allow you to be sacrificed, just as he never allowed himself to be possessed into destroying you."

"Thanks, Berry," Mac replied, looking down at the floor, "but…but I'm still nervous."

Berry thought for a few moments as Bloo continued to clean out his "ears". Then she finally replied, "I have a berry good idea. Why don't we dress up in those outfits were wore the first time and attend the ritual? That way we can keep an eye on you if anything should happen."

Mac raised his head to her, then forced a weak smile.

"I gotta hand it to you, Berry," he said weakly, "for someone who's been in Hell as long as you have, you certainly haven't lost your cool."

Berry giggled and blushed, as if flattered, then brought her paw inside the bars. "It's gonna be alright, Mac," she told him, her eyes glittering in hope. "Trust me. It's gonna be alright."

She took her hand in his and, despite the pain he was in, both physical and emotional, Mac couldn't help but smile. Perhaps things were going to look up after all…

Perhaps.

* * *

The room was silent now. Terrence had abandoned his spot near the statue and was now near the fireplace, knees drawn up to his chest. His expression was still hopeless; his face still streaked with unwiped tears. Once again, he thought of Mac, how horrible it must be for him in that cell, how awful he was for dragging all the others into it— 

_No._

He clenched his fists tightly; they blazed with fire. His hopeless expression turned to one of determination, and he arose, standing tall once more. _They can hurt me, they can rape me, but they can't break me. THEY CAN'T BREAK ME_.

As if in response, a loud howl echoed from down the quarters: a howl that Terrence had grown accustomed to since his being here. A three-tone howl—Cerberus. He smiled lightly. If only he could talk to the dog; maybe he'd have someone to confide in…

Hell with that—and no pun intended. He'd find a way out of this place even if it killed him. Roughly, he extinguished the fire with his foot, then began to make his way up the smokestack.

The place was a claustrophobic's nightmare—dark, cramped, and mold-encrusted. Still, the teen continued climbing, and didn't stop until he reached the top—which led directly up to the top of a high cliff. Glancing down, he could see the guards still standing outside his door.

_Suckers_, he thought to himself, then, putting his newfound powers to work, sprang from the top of the cliff and landed gracefully further down the hallway. Backing up against the wall, he slunk down the corridor until he reached the giant wooden door that housed Cerberus.

When he was first introduced, Lucifer had given him a key to the lock—and that was for all the better, it proved. Terrence shoved the key into the lock, twisted it, then pulled the door open. As he shut it, happy yelps and three enormous, drool-covered tongues reached out to greet him.

"Whoa, boys!" Terrence laughed, trying to get away from their licking tongues. "Whoa! Okay, I get it! You're happy to see me! Cut it out! Sit! Sit!"

Cerberus, its serpent tail still wagging merrily, obeyed, then laid down and rolled over onto its back. The first head gestured toward him; he sighed and shook his head. The dog rolled back over, the ears on all three heads flattened, as if in concern.

"So you know what's going on, huh." Terrence strode across the room and took the middle head in his arms, softly stroking its glossy black fur. "I disobeyed my Master, and now my little bro is gonna pay for it." He sobbed lightly and buried his face in the dog's fur. "I never meant for it to come to this, honest. What am I supposed to do?"

The three heads whimpered, as if in sympathy. Terrence reached out to pet the first head, then reached over to pet the third head. He still kept his body against the middle head, which seemed to be showing the greatest form of sympathy; its eyes were closed and it was whimpering like mad. Terrence stroked it on the nose.

"The sacrifice is tomorrow," he told the heads. "If I don't think of something to get Mac out of there by then, I—I—" His voice broke, and he buried his head back into the dog's soft fur.

The dogs whined and laid their heads down beside him. Sighing, he leaned up against their thick, soft necks, soon drifting away to sleep…

* * *

The third night. 

The third night of searching. And yet no sign of Frankie, Eduardo, Wilt, Bloo, or Coco. Mr. Herriman sighed, getting up from his desk, and hopped into the main hallway, past the steps, and into the kitchen. He sighed as he stared at the dark, empty interior—normally at this time, Bloo would be plotting some crazy scheme to get a midnight snack—possibly drag Eduardo or Coco, possibly Wilt, into it.

He frowned, turned around, and hopped up the stairs, heading down a separate hallway. On his way down the hall, he passed Frankie's room…he stopped to look inside.

Frankie's bed was all made for her, her computer set in standby mode, her clothes strewn about the floor to be picked up later…if later ever came. A flash of lightning came from outside, illuminating the features further, and he saw, at the head of her bed, her favorite teddy bear. He gave a heavy sigh of depression, then slowly hopped into the room and picked the bear up. Its button eyes stared back at him, almost lifelike, pleading to know where its owner was.

The rabbit set the bear back down, then took a seat on the bed and hung his head. His gaze traveled back up to the bear, still staring at him, almost accusingly.

A single tear rolled down one eye, and he took the bear up in his hands and hugged it tightly to his chest, feeling the softness of the plush fur, the button eyes, the stitched-on smile. He removed the bear from his embrace and held in his hands for quite some time, ears drooped even lower than usual, a look of sadness upon his features. There was a long moment of silence as he looked at the bear, while the bear looked back at him.

Back with its button eyes.

Finally, Herriman spoke. "I miss them, too," he admitted, as another tear dripped from his eye. He drew the bear up into another hug, as the rain pounded outside.

* * *

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we've searched the entire city and we've found no sign of your boys." The chief of police removed his cap. "I apologize deeply, but I fear that there's nothing more we can do." 

Mac and Terrence's mother stood in the doorway, trying her hardest to hide her grief. "I understand, officer," she replied softly. "Thank you for your services."

"I wish you the best of luck," the officer said, as they began to trek back to the car parked in the rainy street. Mac and Terrence's mother sighed deeply, then shut the door behind her, looking around the house. She finally reached up toward the bookshelf and took down a rather dusty photo-album. Laying it on the couch, she slowly opened it up, revealing so many memories of the past…the past that she and her boys had used to share together…

Mac as an infant, and Terrence cradling him in his arms.

Mac's first step, with Terrence egging him on.

Mac and Terrence on the tire swing together, laughing.

Mac and Terrence in the city pool, Terrence holding Mac up.

A family portrait of the boys with their father.

She sighed again, then shut the album, burying her head in her arms. A few light sobbing sounds escaped her lips before one last plea:

"Please, God. Not my boys. Don't take my boys…they're all I have left…"

* * *

"_I love you, Terrence. I trust you_." 

His dead father's words guided the young teen even in his sleep. Heaving a deep sigh, he turned over and rested upon the other head.

"I'll avenge you, dad," he whispered to himself. "I swear it…even if it's the last thing I ever do…"


	11. Information

**THE DEVIL'S REIGN**

**By Grand High Idol**

**X.**

"Hi there, kid." The red-haired boy's face broke out into a smug grin as he stared down at the little 7-year-old boy. He was a tall kid, at least in ninth grade, with freckles and a buzz-cut. Two other boys were standing behind them; the little boy couldn't tell how old they were, but he knew that they had to have had a lot of experience in school. They certainly looked old enough for it.

"Hi," the little boy replied shyly, scraping the toe of his tennis shoe across the pavement. He blushed slightly, out of nervousness, and reached up to brush back his ebony hair. Why were these boys talking to him…? He certainly didn't know, but he'd give anything to fit in with the big kids.

The redhead snickered slightly, then bent down so that he and the young boy were face-to-face. "Well, aren't you so precious," he said, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips. "What's your name, little fella?"

The boy looked around. The playground was completely empty; it was early evening and most of the other kids and parents had gone home for the night. Although his mother had warned him not to speak to strangers, he replied, softly, "My name…ah…my name is Terry."

At hearing this all three boys broke out laughing; one of them commented on how "Terry" was a girl's name. The little boy didn't remember much of their speech after that; he only remembered the redhead commenting on what lovely gray eyes he had, and how he would love to "play" with him.

"Play?" The little boy was confused; he tilted his head to one side, ever so slightly. "You mean like a game?"

The redhead, still grinning broadly, nodded. "Yep," he said, reaching for the boy's waist, "but this game isn't like _anything_ you've ever played before in your life. This game is the _best_ game in the world."

The other two behind him laughed. The little boy was eager to know what the game was—but it was a matter of time before he wished he hadn't. The redhead yanked his trousers down, undergarments and all, then shoved him face-first to the curb. He set his knees down on the boy's feet to prevent him from getting back up again, as he undid his belt buckle.

"Trust me," he heard the redhead say, "You'll love _this_."

The other boys continued laughing in the background; the little boy whimpered and tried to break free. He didn't like this game anymore. He wanted to quit right now. But how could he say that to someone as old as the redhead who had pinned him down?

"Ready?" the redhead asked, a trace of pleasure in his voice. The little boy tried to shake his head, but the older boy's hand reached out and rammed it down into the pavement, holding him in place.

He remembered only a few things afterward…he heard laughter…he heard footsteps…he heard a male voice yell "What the _FUCK_ do you think you're doing!"…

Darkness again.

* * *

Terrence was awakened by Cerberus's grunts of discontent. Opening his eyes, he now realized that he had been dreaming, and during this time had grabbed the skin on the middle head's neck, pinching it in a way most uncomfortable. Realizing his mistake, he let go immediately and stroked the head behind the ear.

"Sorry, boy," he muttered, before turning over. Even though the cage was windowless, he could still sense that it was early morning…he groaned. Today was the Sabbath, and that meant one thing and one thing only…Mac was about to become a child sacrifice for some kind of demon from the deepest bowels of Hell. He knew he had to do something, but his mind, even after being unblocked after so many years, was on the fritz. He hated himself for that, but he knew that beating himself up mentally was not going to save his little brother any sooner. He needed to devise a plan, and quickly.

Cerberus's third head stirred, then slowly raised itself up, cocking its head ever so slightly; it appeared to sense the conflict stirring within the young teen. It made a light sound that sounded like a cross between a whine and a howl, then looked up toward the ceiling.

Terrence looked over at the head. "Yeah, I know, I know," he sighed; he then got up and stretched. He smelled roughly of wet dog from being in the drooling beast's pen all night, but who freaking cared; it was better than wallowing in his own misery. He smoothed out his outfit, walked over to the head, and stroked it on the nose.

"You really want to help, don't you?" he asked the head, which grunted in response and shut its eyes. The young teen gazed down at the floor. "I know that you do, but I just can't think of any good use for you…my little bro's in trouble, I'm stuck in captivity, and…oh God…what am I supposed to _do_!"

"_Roouumph_," the head replied; it then reached over to pick up an object that was lying on the floor. It then dropped it in front of Terrence, who cringed at the sight of the thing—a human skull. The head nudged the middle one, who looked over in the direction of the bone; it too seemed to nod its head in agreement with its partner.

At first Terrence was confused at what the dog-beast was getting at, until he heard the faint gurgling of the dog's massive stomach. It was then that he remembered the words that Lucifer had said when he first introduced Cerberus to him:

"_You see, he's starved, to be precise. I keep him that way. Seems to make him all the more ferocious when someone disobeys my orders_…"

Terrence broke out into a broad grin, then hugged the head nearest to him. "You're _brilliant_!" he exclaimed, before letting go and rubbing his hands together. "Don't worry, boy, you'll get your chance soon. Because someone just disobeyed an order of _mine_, and I don't take too _kindly_ to that."

He then took the middle head in his hands and stroked the glossy black fur softly. "You ready, boy?" he asked; the beast grunted in response and gave a wag of its tail. Terrence grinned. "Good. Now, here's what we're gonna do come tonight…"

* * *

Mac's awakening was a lot less comfortable.

"UP!" one of the guards shouted, making the little boy leap to his feet and look around in surprise. He moaned and rubbed his eyes, but the guard snatched him around the waist and tucked him underneath his arm.

"Hey!" Mac said, struggling to break free of the monster's grip. "Let _go_ of me! What are you _doing_!"

The guard grunted in response as he trod through the sickeningly dank prison. Once they reached the staircase that led up to the main hall, he turned his head toward the boy. His disgusting, ram-like features broke out into a grotesque smile.

"It's the Sabbath," he growled as they began to ascend the steps. "Every Sabbath, little boy, we carry out a special tradition here. A _sacred_ tradition. One that has kept Hell strong as long as it has."

Mac was nervous, but he was determined not to let the guard sense his fear. "What…what does any of this have to do with me?"

The guard snorted in laughter. "Little boy…" he stopped to look down at Mac for a second. "Have you ever seen those 'Missing Child' posters at local…what you call…police stations? Or in your primitive way of message delivering?"

"You mean the mail?"

"Yeah, yeah." He paused a moment to clear his throat, then drew his head to the point where he and Mac were face-to-face. "Do you ever know what _becomes_ of those children, little boy? Do you ever wonder why they're almost _never_ found?"

Mac coughed; the guard's breath was hot and dry. Then he shook his head.

The guard laughed as they began their ascension up the stairway once more. "There are many followers of the Great Lucifer on the surface of your planet, my boy. 'The Occult', it likes to call itself. These human creatures believe that Lucifer will grant them life eternal if they sell their souls and do his bidding." He laughed again. "But in the end…they all end up down here, toiling away in the pits forever more."

"So…what does this 'Occult' have to do with the missing kids?" Mac asked, crossing his arms.

"Every week, one of these stupid, frisky children goes wandering off somewhere, or leaves with a stranger, or something like that. More often than never the stranger is a member of the Occult. Once they find a child proper for the Sabbath tradition, they take it to the Soul Stealer, who drags it down into the bowels of Hell."

He stopped for another moment, then shoved his broad shoulder against the door; they were now in the main passageway. He tightened his grip on Mac and continued down the passageway, the only sources of light flickering torches from the walls.

"Once the child is in Hell with us," the guard continued, "It is taken to the place we like to call 'Bloody Mouth'. Once there, the child is prepared and chained to a rock by our best guards. Our Guardian, the one of Hell's Gates, then enters and feasts on the child as a sacrifice. In return, it provides us with needed protection from the…" He swallowed hard, then looked up toward the ceiling; slight fear seemed to dance in his eyes. "Army of Light."

Mac nodded and did not say a thing, he already knew damn well what this mighty "Army of Light" consisted of. He then glanced up toward the guard, his eyes wide in fear. "So, you're saying that—"

"_You_ will be the child that our Guardian will feast upon tonight," the guard laughed triumphantly. "And I must say, it saved us a lot of trouble. Originally Lucifer was going to send the Soul Stealer out on the search for an Occult member, but it appears your stupid older brother's refusal to cooperate saved us that little task."

Mac glared angrily at this thought. _If it weren't for Terrence I wouldn't even _be_ in this situation right now_, he thought fiercely. But then he remembered how Terrence had refused to kill him, refused to fight him, had hugged him, comforted him…

_He could have killed me right there, but he didn't_. Mac's features broke out into a sly grin. _He DIDN'T. He DIDN'T!_

Meanwhile, the guard was talking amongst himself, sorting out his thoughts. "I cannot believe the nerve of that nasty little wretch. We give him an empire to control, and what do we get in return? Shit, that's what. Shit. If I were Lucifer I'd have HIM chained to the rock instead of this little runt here—"

"Don't you _ever _say that!" Mac screamed, jabbing the guard in the ribs with his free arm. It wasn't enough to injure it, obviously; however, it was enough to grab the creature's attention.

"Terrence may be a jerk, and he may be a bit headstrong, but you know what? He's _my_ brother. And once he gets out of that room you locked him in you're in for some _major_ trouble ahead!"

The guard laughed mockingly. "Compassion. Cute." He craned his neck, looking out toward the end of the passageway. "Almost there. Let's go, lover-boy."

* * *

"So, what do you think?" Berry giggled, swirling around in her robe. "Pretty nice, huh?"

Bloo placed a hand on his chin and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, looks okay," he said, shrugging his shoulders; he then looked around the room. "I don't believe this…I didn't even think that this place _had_ a library, and more authentic curtains, at that!" He looked toward Berry. "How'd you find out about this place, anyway?"

Berry knotted the hood on her cloak. "It's not really a library so much as a reading room for the demonites themselves," she replied. "This place is filled with spells and incantations—endless supply of them. I'd advise you not to touch anything, you hear me? _Anything_."

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya loud and clear," Bloo replied, shrugging her words off. He stopped to look at a scale model of the Earth—as seen from the views of an individual with spiritual beliefs. "Wow, this is so awesome!" He reached out to feel it. "How'd they manage to—"

"_Don't touch that_!" Berry shrieked; she then lunged forward and rammed Bloo away from the globe—hard. The little blue imaginary friend was sent careening into a shelf of old books, knocking them onto the floor. Berry jumped, looked around to see if anyone had heard the noise, then came running to Bloo's aid.

"Oh my God, I'm so berry sorry!" she exclaimed, helping the blue imaginary friend to his "feet". "I didn't think—I didn't know—"

"Are you kidding? That was _awesome_!" Bloo exclaimed, jumping. "I mean, seriously, have you ever considered playing for the NFL? Because you'd be _so freaking awe_—" He stopped, then looked at Berry, who was staring in awe at a book on the floor that had fallen open. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Quiet, Bloo," Berry replied; she then gestured him toward her. When Bloo came over, she held up the book for him to see it. It was an old book, long since encrusted with mold and dust, and the pages had yellowed horribly. Nevertheless, the two imaginary friends were still able to tell what the symbol on the opened page was.

"Hey—" Bloo said, pointing to the image. "Isn't that the same symbol as the one on that medallion that that creep gave to Terrence at the…ah…joining thing?"

Berry nodded softly; her eyes then skimmed the text below it. "And according to this source, it's over millions of years old. It originated when the fallen Angel Lucifer formed Hell, and has been passed from apprentice to apprentice over the centuries. It is said that the stone inside the crucifix is made of pure dark energy."

"Yeah, yeah, blah-blah-blah," Bloo muttered, crossing his arms. "What's it say about the cool stuff? Can it do anything special?"

Berry glared at him, then her eyes traveled back to the book. "…It says in a passage below that the crucifix houses deathly powers—even to immortals, and that the medallion was made in the first place to keep the dark energy from running amok too soon. It is said that a creature more powerful than Lucifer hisself is housed within this precious gem, and that any exposure to the Army of Light's defenses—lamb's blood, holy water, anything—will release the beast inside." She sighed and closed the book. "And that's all it says."

Bloo smiled widely. "I just got a great idea," he said, looking down at Berry.

Berry sighed. "Is it stupid?"

"Yes—well—no!" Bloo snapped at her. "If that medallion is really all that jazz, then why don't we play a little game with Lucifer, hmm?"

"I don't know what you're getting at."

"You said yourself that the creature in that stone is more powerful than Lucifer, right? I bet he'd have a cow if that thing were to get loose. It would ruin his entire career as the Lord of Darkness."

Berry sat cross-legged on the floor for a few moments, her eyes closed, tapping her chin in thought. Her expression then brightened, and she got to her feet.

"Bloo, you're right!" she replied. "But there are a few things we have to take care of first."

"And those things are…?"

"One, we need to inform Terrence of this right away. Two…we need to find a way to drive them upward. Up…" She swallowed, then pointed upward. "To the _surface_."


	12. The Sabbath

**THE DEVIL'S REIGN**

**By Grand High Idol**

**XI.**

"Stop struggling, you little _wretch_!" one of the cloaked figures hissed. "Do you want me to break your _other_ leg?"

"Let _go_ of me!" Mac screamed, trying to back away, his shirt ripping from his chest in the process. Now half-clad, he kicked and struggled, trying to get out of the chains they had tied him in, but the demonites were not so compassionate about the little boy's emotions. A set of cold, bony hands lashed out and held his bare feet to the floor, while the other pair yanked off his trousers—undergarments and all. Entirely naked now, he finally gave up struggling and sighed, moaning in defeat.

"That's better," the demonite hissed; he then turned around and reached for several vials on the shelf adjacent to him. Placing a stone bowl before him, he then reached out for Mac's belly—the one spot where the blood flowed the most without actually killing the boy. Taking a stone dagger, he immediately shoved it into Mac's side.

Mac gave a scream of pain as the blade entered his fragile system, and the screaming continued all the time the demonite made the cut. Blood gushed forth like a river; the demonite caught it all within the stone bowl. Mac struggled, screamed, then finally heaved a deep sigh and slipped into-half consciousness. The demonite set the bowl on the floor beside the little boy, then began to empty the vials, one by one, into the blood, all the time chanting.

_"Oh Custos, meus custos…oh Custos, meus custos…"_

Mac was frightened now. Tears of fright streaming down his face, he looked over at the demonite, who was now stirring the concoction up. "W-what are y-y-you going to do t-to me?" he stuttered through his tears.

"Nothing at all, my boy, nothing at all," the demonite replied; he then dipped his fingers into the mixture and, with his nails, began to paint symbols on Mac's nude body—unholy symbols. Another demonite—a female, he guessed—arrived with a tattered rag, stained with blood and yellowed over time. This she tied around Mac's waist.

The two stood up and looked over their work; the demonite to the left nodded. "He is ready now."

"The Guardian will be pleased…"

That was all Mac could manage to hear before he was knocked out entirely.

* * *

"Co co co-co-co?"

Berry nodded. "I'm dead serious, Coco. Both Bloo and I are." She lowered the hood on her disguise and looked up through teary eyes at Frankie. "If I know the demonites, they'll surely have taken Mac to the Room of the Fallen for preparations. If we're too late—" She buried her face in her paws; she did not want to think about it.

"Mac este _muerto_!" Eduardo wailed, bursting into tears. Wilt gently drew him close and patted him on the back to comfort him. Frankie looked over at the two and sighed; her gaze then shifted back on Berry.

"We love Mac too much to lose him," Frankie told the small magenta friend. She clasped her hands together and fell to her knees. "But what can we _do_? If all these things that you told us were true, he won't—he won't have—" Her voice broke; she looked away.

"I'll tell you what we can do." The entire gang turned to look at Bloo, who had spoken. "Berry and I read something about a cursed amulet while we were in the library—"

"Reading room!" Berry corrected.

"Okay, reading room, whatever—getting our disguises. It has something to do with that pendant around Terrence's neck. Now I'm not sure if he'll attend the Sabbath or not, but if we unleash that beast we'll have _more_ than a chance against the Guardian and Lucifer himself." He clenched his fists tightly. "Throwing us in a cage is one thing, but this bastard has gone _too_ far! If he takes my best friend…"

He sighed and dropped to his knees, then looked up at the others, the traces of determination still lingering behind his eyes.

"If he takes my best friend…I go down too."

For a moment all there was, was silence. Finally Eduardo stopped crying, his features hardened, and he stood up.

"_Si_!" he stated. "I go wherever Mac go!"

"Me too!" Wilt stood up beside Eduardo.

"Co-co-co!" Coco stepped up to join them.

Frankie looked at the five imaginary friends standing before her and, for a split second, wanted to cry—such devotion, such compassion for their stolen friend! She finally flung herself forward, landing in Eduardo's arms.

"I'm in!" she exclaimed happily, tears streaming down her face. "I'm in too!"

"Awesome!" Bloo exclaimed, pumping a fist and leaping into the air. He then gathered the group together; Frankie wiped the tears from her eyes. "Okay, now, here's what we're gonna do…"

* * *

Faux Flagrare, otherwise known as the "Bloody Mouth", was a dark, dreary, and horrendous place. Concave cavern walls shifted away from the rock in the center, surrounded by molten lava—which gave off the only light in the room. An open cavern in the form of a screaming creature's mouth had been carved directly in front of the rock. Near the top had been carved several doors that led out to the workmines—built like a coliseum, only much, much, darker. And this time, the group thought drearily, there was to be no winner.

Slowly filing by with the rest of the demonites, well-hidden underneath their robes, Frankie, Bloo, Berry, and the others slowly took their seats, keeping their hands inside their sleeves. Frankie's gaze shifted around the area for awhile—and remembered, in the past, when Madame Foster would read her fairy tales as a little girl. She vaguely remembered the tale of the princess who had been dragged down into a witch's dungeon, and, of all things, if this was what a witch's dungeon should have looked like, they'd done a damn good job portraying it.

She heaved a sigh, then looked around at the rest of the crowd. Unlike them, she could sense that they were enjoying this. Her eyes narrowed. _Enjoy it while you can, you fucking creeps_, she thought, _but sooner or later it's all going to blow up in your faces._

"Arise!" A voice suddenly boomed, startling the crew. They immediately stood along with the others.

The creature whom had spoken—a strange, red demon with long white hair in a ponytail, horse-like features, and cloven hooves began his descent down the stairs, heading toward the platform that led out to the Rock. Behind him followed two demonites, both cloaked; one of them was carrying a bloody blanket. Everyone remained silent as they approached the Rock.

The horse-demon walked up to the platform in front of the rock and threw his arms out. "Lords of Satan! Disciples of the Occult! Hear me!"

"_Oh Custos meus custos_!" the crowd chanted; Frankie swallowed. Latin again, no doubt.

"Once again, the day has come. Once again, we are all united to witness the tradition of the Black Sabbath!"

"_Oh Custos meus custos_!" the crowd replied.

"And once again, a child of choice—a child of pure blood—has been chosen to offer to our Guardian of the Gates!" Frankie stopped chanting; she then whipped her head in the direction of the two demonites, who had now chained whoever was under the blanket down to the rock. "May I present to you—the human sacrifice!"

At this, the blanket was whipped off, revealing Mac, half-conscious and chained to the rock by his wrists and ankles. Frankie gasped and drew her hands to her mouth; she looked around at the others. They appeared as shocked as she was, but they dared not say a thing.

The horse-demon bowed his head. "And now…the tradition of the Guardian's entrance. Chant!" He then removed himself from the platform, sat cross-legged on the stone floor, and began chanting:

"_Praevenire nobis, meus Custos. Praevenire nobis, meus Custos_."

The crowd took their seats and began to chant along with him; Frankie lowered her hood and pretended to chant, all the while looking at Mac. The poor kid…stripped of his clothing, a gash in his side, horrific marks painted all over his body—in blood, no doubt…he was barely even breathing. She bit her lower lip and drew her gaze toward the open cavern.

The chanting grew louder and faster. The ground beneath their feet vibrated. Eduardo whimpered, drew himself tighter into his cloak, and made several whimpering sounds as the vibrations became harder…louder…

Then, eventually, the cavern was dark and from it reared a creature so hideous that Eduardo almost wet himself. No doubt this was the Guardian.

Frankie checked it over. It looked very much like a ram, except its ears were much larger. It had the snout of a dog, rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth, glowing red eyes, and curled horns. Its body was emaciated a great deal; she could see almost every bone in the creature's body as it lumbered past her. On its tail were a series of circular discs, ending with a diamond-ridged tail. Around its neck it bore a collar of chains, each chain having a human skeleton hung from the links. Frankie herself whimpered and looked away as the creature approached, then sat.

The horse-demon approached the platform of the rock. "My Guardian, we present you with this human offering as a token of our appreciation for your protection against the Army of Light. May its blood serve you well."

The Guardian grunted, eyed Mac, then looked back down at the horse-demon and snorted—ultimately, a sign to get out of the way, for the second that it did, the creature fled back into the crowd. It then reared its head toward Mac, its hot breath blowing in the boy's face.

Mac whimpered, and tears began to stream down his face once more. The Guardian seemed to enjoy this, for its ears pricked and its mouth opened slightly. Now the horrible odor of past-devoured children wafted into the boy's nasal system.

"Please…" Mac pleaded softly, as the Guardian opened its mouth, revealing its rows upon rows of teeth for the boy to see. "Please…no…"

"Mac!" Bloo whimpered, lunging for the platform, but Frankie held him back; she, too, was trembling. The Guardian's tongue fell forth from between its lips, it reared to its full height, and prepared to bite into Mac…

…That was when the walls caved in on one side of the area, halting the Guardian momentarily as it stopped to check what it was. The horse-demon, too, looked up toward the now-ruined coliseum area to see what all the fuss was about, and when the dust cleared his features turned to a look of pure horror.

"No…not you…"

Cerberus responded with a high-pitched screech, then its middle head lunged for the horse-demon, taking him up in his jaws and, with one quick snapping sound, killed him instantly. The three heads then tore the corpse apart, pulling muscle from bone, separating organs, spraying blood across the area…

The rider atop the beast tapped his foot against the beast's side; the three headed dog stopped its eating. Of course. It was to follow its master's commands only, and right now was no time to be snacking. Giving a low growl, it leapt for the Rock, all of its teeth bared.

"Onward, Cerberus!" Terrence yelled, one hand digging into the dog's neck, the other pointing straight ahead at the Guardian. Cerberus's three heads gave a roar of power, then leapt upon the Guardian, biting, tearing, clawing. Terrence leapt off, landing on the platform of the Rock.

Frankie leapt up in her seat and pumped her fists. "Yes!" she hollered.

"All right!" Wilt shouted.

"Es Mac's big brother to the rescue!" Eduardo commented.

"Yeah! Go, Terrence!" Bloo exclaimed, then, realizing what he had just said, looked down at the floor. "I mean, I could've done better than _that_."

Mac, who had seen all the commotion, tried his hardest to look down. "Terrence!" he cried, struggling to move.

Terrence looked up toward the top of the Rock. "Mac!" he yelled; he then looked back at the two beasts, who were still rolling around in the molten lava, clawing and biting at each other. "Mac, hang in there! I'm coming to save ya!"

"Hurry!" Mac yelled, tears still flowing from his eyes.

Terrence leapt upward, landing on a flat ledge of the Rock, then continued to climb upward until he reached Mac. Gasping for breath and sweating all over, he began to undo Mac's chains, one at a time.

"I…I thought that you…you wouldn't come…" Mac murmured softly.

Terrence ran a hand through the boy's brown hair. "Shh," he replied, smiling. "Don't talk. Let's just get you out of here before—SHIT!"

He leapt out of the way as an energy blast struck the Rock, causing it to teeter and fall over, crushing another side of the area. Running down the platform, he quickly looked up in time to see Lucifer, eyes blazing wildly and fire at his fingertips.

"_You WILL regret this, BOY_!" he screeched, then threw another energy bolt in Terrence's direction. Once again, Terrence leapt out of the way, doing a backflip before landing in front of Frankie, Bloo, and the rest of the gang. At first he was startled—until he recognized their faces.

"It's—it's you guys!" he gasped, still clinging to Mac. "Oh, God—" He looked up at Lucifer, then at Frankie. "Here, take him somewhere safe. I have the feeling that _Lucifer _and I have something to settle." He glared up in the beast's direction, then shoved Mac into Frankie's arms. Frankie looked up at him, her eyes wavering.

"What about—" she began, but Terrence cut her off.

"I'll be fine," he panted. "Just—just get Mac outta here."

"We'll meet you at the surface," Berry hinted, pointing toward the amulet. Terrence didn't seem to get her at first, then nodded in approval and leapt off to face Lucifer, energy forming around his own fists.

"_Lucifer_!" he screamed angrily, as the others retreated out of the cavern. "_I've had enough of these fucking games! You've been a thorn in my side since the time I was born, and now you've practically wrecked my life as I know it_!" He swung a fist at Lucifer, which collided with his face. He continued to beat the demon for each line he said.

"_I could have been happy! I could have been normal! I could have been part of a REAL FAMILY_!" He swatted Lucifer back with all the energy he could muster, sending him careening through a wall. His energy used for the moment, he hung his head and panted heavily as the dust cleared.

Now vulnerable, however, a blast ripped through the dust clouds, hitting him in the chest and sending him through an adjacent wall. He landed hard, rolled over a few times, and was still. It wasn't long before he heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

"You've made a _major_ mistake betraying me, boy," Lucifer replied, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Terrence struggled to get up as Lucifer held up his fists, dark energy starting to swirl around them.

"And now, you're going to PAY for it."


	13. Deliver Us From Evil

**THE DEVIL'S REIGN**

**By Grand High Idol**

**_"I know it seems too wrong to be right_**

_**This way is so much harder to fight**_

_**But in the end I know it's true**_

_**This way is better, it's better for you…"**_

**—Kutless, "Better For You"**

**XII.**

Terrence, still half-dazed from the blast, staggered to his feet, his hair even messier than it was before, and dirt streaked across his face. Panting hard, he looked Lucifer directly in the eye; the Lord of Hell could sense utter loathing and determination behind them.

He smiled. Good. The angrier the boy got, the more it would serve him.

"You—" Terrence swallowed. "You're not…going to get…away…with any…of this and…you do…realize…that…"

"Talk is cheap." Lucifer glared at him; his eyes were now illuminated with a bright red glow. He drew back his lips, revealing layers of sharp teeth. In a demonic, husky voice, he finished, "So why not take it to the next level?"

"I'm not afraid of you!" Terrence growled angrily; his eyes were beginning to flash a bright yellow in return. "I'll fucking fight you from here to eternity if I have to!"

"Good boy." Lucifer then tore off his robes, revealing perfectly-carved abs and cloven hooves. Raven-colored fur sprouted from every part of his body; his head sprouted horns, his facial features morphed to form those of a ram's, the muscles in his neck expanded. The beast—or Lucifer, to put it more accurately—threw its head back and roared.

Terrence was not intimidated; he stood his ground and clenched his fists tightly. "I'm not afraid of you," he repeated, glaring.

"Soon you will be," the demon responded; he then gave a mighty roar and charged forward. Terrence held up both hands in front of him and concentrated, forming a barrier shield. Lucifer bounced off of its invisible walls and landed on his feet several yards away from where Terrence was standing.

"Valiant effort," Lucifer commented, then charged again, this time from the back. The plate of his skull slammed dead-on into Terrence's spine; he gave a cry of pain as he was thrown through the air and skidded across the dirt.

"Stupid boy." Lucifer walked up to approach him. "You barely even _know_ your powers."

* * *

"We gotta get out we gotta get out we gotta get _out_!"

Frankie was stammering as she clutched Mac close to her bosom, running from room to room, sometimes slamming head-on into the panicked demonites. Behind her lumbered Eduardo, Coco, and Wilt, who were having just as much trouble as she was with the problem; they couldn't stop slamming into one-another.

Frankie whipped her head around to face them. "We've got to get out of here, and it has to be right now!" she exclaimed. "But we're too far down…how are we supposed to—" She stopped, then looked around. "Where are Bloo and Berry?"

"They said they were going back down to Bloody Mouth to get something important," Wilt said, shrugging. "Sorry, but that's all I know."

"Bloo!" Frankie growled and brought a fist to her forehead. "This is no time to be messing around. When I get my hands on those two, _I'll_—"

"Frankie!" Eduardo exclaimed. "Frankie, look!"

"What now, Ed—" she began, but her speech was halted the moment she turned around, now encompassed in the shadow of the mighty three-headed Cerberus. Giving a mighty bark of victory, it lowered its middle head—where Bloo and Berry were currently perched.

"Bloo! Berry!" Frankie exclaimed. "But how—"

"No time for words," Berry said, shaking her head. "Just get on!"

Frankie nodded quickly, then mounted the head to the left, still cradling Mac in her arms. Wilt, Coco, and Eduardo, who mounted the head to the right, followed her. Once everyone was seated, Cerberus reared back up, giving another roar and pawing at the air with its bloodstained claws.

"Now we're talkin'," Bloo said, smirking. He then dug his hands into the skin on the dog's neck. "Cerberus! Let's blow this joint!"

Although slang was very rarely spoken down in these areas, the three-headed beast seemed to know what it meant, for it immediately started to run straight forward, heading in the direction of one of the walls. Smashing through it at full-speed, it then leapt upward, beginning its ascension to the world above it.

"Hold on berry tight, everybody!" Berry told the others as Cerberus began to climb. "This is going to be a long trip up."

"How'd you—I mean, what did you—" Frankie started to say, but Bloo stopped her.

"It was easy…too easy, really," he replied, smugly. "It was all just in the sweet-talkin'. Told this doggie I was a friend of Terrence and now the thing follows _all _of _my_ commands." He reached up to scratch the middle head behind the ear; Frankie rolled her eyes. "Don't you, boy? Don't you?"

"What about that creature? You know, the Guardian?" Wilt asked.

"Dead." Bloo shrugged. "But what are ya gonna do. The sight was pretty cool, though—throat was torn out and everything." He patted Cerberus's left neck, grinning smugly. "Looks like our doggie here gave the Guardian a _real_ run for his money." He laughed.

"But without the Guardian, that means—"

Frankie didn't have time to finish her sentence. Already the pale-blue souls of the dead from the Army of Light were sweeping in on golden chariots, laying waste to the demonites in their paths. Winged horses trampled the creatures to a bloody death under their hooves, while another group skewered one as easily as one might skewer a tender steak.

There was not much to see from the Army of Light, though. One quick leap from Cerberus and they were gone, falling through complete blackness, complete silence, complete nothingness…

_THA-WHUMP_!

The entire group jumped as the dog's paws hit solid ground; it then lowered its three heads, allowing them to slide off. Frankie looked around—there were standing in the middle of an open clearing. Pond to the left, tree to the right, and far off…she squinted. Was that a windmill?

Oh well. It didn't matter around here anyway. There was only one building within range, and that building was a church. They were out of danger for now; why bother going over there…?

Mac stirred from within Frankie's arms; the team immediately drew close to him. He moaned, turned his head to one side, then finally opened his eyes. His vision blurred for a second, then became clear, as he saw all the figures standing above him.

"You guys…" he muttered, his voice weak. "You're…you're all right…"

"We're just fine, buddy," Bloo replied, taking Mac's hand in his own. "What about you? Are you gonna pull through?"

Mac didn't answer for a moment, then shook his head and slowly staggered to his feet. "I'll—I'll be fine," he murmured, stumbling for a second, then regaining his footing. "Where—where's Terrence?"

The others stopped, then looked at each other. Finally, Frankie bent down to Mac's height and stroked him on the back of the head. "Mac…I'm afraid that your big brother is still down in Hell. He told us to take you to safety while he battled it out with Lucifer, and that's just what we—"

"No!" Mac exclaimed, stiffening, his eyes wide. "No! You can't let him do that! He'll die down there!"

"But Mac, there's not much else we _can_—" Frankie was interrupted yet again by another poke from Berry. Sighing, she turned around. "What is it _this_ time?"

Berry pointed toward the church on the hill. "Remember what Bloo and I said about the beast inside Terrence's necklace? Well, I told him to drive Lucifer up here—in my own special way, of course—" She blushed—"And that church probably holds all the answers we need to defeating this Monster once and for all."

"But how do you know it's even—"

"Look." Berry gently turned Frankie's cheek and pointed in the direction of the church's stained-glass windows, where several lights were flickering. "The candles are still on—that's a good sign that someone's still inside. Whatever we do, _anything_, we have to do it with a person of religious experience."

"I'll go," Mac said, suddenly full of energy, pushing past them and running toward the church.

"Mac, wai—" Frankie began, reaching out her hand, but by the time she could get the words out of her mouth Mac had already vanished into the darkness of the hill.

* * *

"_SUFFEEERRRRRRRRRRR_…"

Terrence whined in agony as the beast drove him further into the dust, crushing his ribs, placing weight on his lungs until they felt like they would burst like balloons. One of Lucifer's clawed hands was pressing on his chest; the other was drawn back behind him, all claws extended. Lucifer's beast form panted, hot breath blowing in the boy's face, as a trickle of pink saliva ran down one side of his jaw.

"_You. Stupid. Fuck_." Lucifer drove him further down with each pressing word. "I practically gave you all you could ever want, and _this_ is how you repay me?"

Terrence gasped, then finally managed to choke out, "There—there's no honor among the sacrilegious. I…I thought you'd know that by now." He smiled coyly.

"Silence!" Another hard shove to the chest; Terrence gasped, then made several choking sounds, his lungs compacting like a crushed tin can. Now it was Lucifer's turn to smile. "You're quite right, boy. I'm surprised I didn't see it coming sooner." He brought his other hand up further behind him, claws extended to the maximum. "I rest my case. But I'm afraid I still have to _hurt you_!"

At those final words, he plunged his hand down into Terrence's soft belly, claws and all. Terrence gave a scream of agony as blood splashed across his face; he could feel the creature's fingers working inside him, twisting, writhing, scooping—

With a sickening _SPLORCH_ sound, the hand was pulled out, encased in blood. Terrence moaned, then looked down at his stomach—where he had expected a gaping hole of scattered organs. Surprisingly, everything was the same way it had looked before—minus the blood splatters. Curious, he looked up at the demon, who was now licking the blood from underneath his claws.

"What did you do to me?" he asked, one hand still clenching his guts, the other drawn into a tight fist.

Lucifer smiled ruggedly. "Something I've wanted to do for a long time, now," he said, his form slowly beginning to shift back into its normal human stage. "I have no threat from you now, my boy. For you see, that shot to the stomach…" he smiled and brought his face up right before Terrence's. "…Took away your powers."

Terrence growled as Lucifer slowly arose, carefully brushing blood and dirt off of his robe. He flashed a look over to the young teen, who now had both fists at his sides and was fuming. He laughed, then shook his head.

"Don't try to intimidate me any more, boy," he said smugly. "I could _easily_ have killed you off in a split-second, but I have other uses for a powerless little _benedict_ such as yourself."

Terrence brushed back a stray hair from his face, his teeth still clenched. "And what _are_ they?" he demanded, panting.

All Lucifer did was flash him a coy smile—apparently there was to be no talking anytime soon. Giving a roar of anger, Terrence leapt for Lucifer, tackling him to the ground. Lucifer's eyes flashed and he responded with a jab to the chest, rolling over onto Terrence. Terrence kicked him in the stomach, sending him upward, then leapt for the ceiling, grabbing the demon tightly around the neck.

There was no going back now that they had surfaced from Hell itself. Their ascent began shortly after that; Terrence holding tight onto Lucifer, Lucifer growling angrily and trying to break away from the little nuisance, and the darkness swirling all around them…alone in that empty place. They carried on upward, upward, until they finally broke surface…

* * *

"Now, what's this about demons, you say?"

Mac was still worn out from the climb up the hill, but had tried his best, in his panicked state, to explain everything to the Reverend who now stood before him. The man was kind, calm, and had asked the boy if everything was all right the second he burst through the glossy double-doors. Mac had said no, and had told him everything that had happened, and what was to be.

"…And that's why we need your help." Mac finished his story in a deep breath. The man nodded and placed his hand to his chin, still pondering. "Please, you have to believe me. I wouldn't make something like this up."

The Reverend reached down to pat him on the head. "You're in shock, my boy," he replied gently. "You need rest."

Mac broke away. "No!" he cried, trying his hardest not to get angry—they needed this man, and angering him would only make their condition worse. "I'm serious. The Devil himself is coming to the surface and my big brother—my brother—" He grew dizzy; slumped against a nearby pew. The Reverend stepped forward and gently lifted him up.

"You've had a shock," he stated, steadying Mac in his arms. "That's all. Now, let's take you into the backroom and get you something to sleep on—"

His sentence abruptly ended as a blinding flash of light swept over them, engulfing the room. The Reverend shut his eyes; Mac clung to him in fear, knowing what had happened. Wide-eyed, the man gently set Mac down and rushed to the doors, flinging them open. The little boy staggered to his feet and ran after him, meeting him at the threshold.

Down the hill, near the pond, a fiery vortex had appeared, two figures suspended within it. One appeared weak, judging from its bodily position, and the other appeared poised for attack. A bright orange glow engulfed the entire area, sending strange shadows dancing along the field and making even the interior of the church itself seem sinister. Cerberus stood underneath an adjacent tree, shielding Frankie, Bloo, and the other Friends from the vortex's fury. Needless to say, it was a sight that the man had never seen before in his life.

"Oh, my Lord…" He looked down toward Mac. "What are we to do?"

"I think I have an idea," Mac panted, looking down toward the pond. "It's not gonna be easy, but it's the only chance we've got." He looked back up toward the Reverend. "Do you think you're up for it?"

"As long as I live the likes of Satan shall never walk upon this earth," the man replied, his features hardening in anger. "Lead the way, my boy."

Mac nodded, then began his descent down the hill, running as fast as he could toward the vortex, ignoring the pain in his leg—which was getting worse and worse as his physical activity increased. The Reverend followed behind him, Bible cradled under one arm, robes billowing in the breeze. They leapt off the foot of the hill, darted across the field, and swerved to the side to avoid the vortex. Luckily for them, Lucifer appeared too occupied with Terrence—who had now slipped into a state of half-consciousness—to bother with the two; they reached the edge of the pond in minutes, nearly slipping into it from the inertia. The Reverend clutched the Bible tightly, as Mac stared down into the water, then looked up at him.

"You see this water?" he said, gesturing toward the pond. "It's not blessed. If it is, it's immediately a weapon of the Army of Light. That's where you come in, Reverend."

The Reverend was still clutching the Book tightly to his chest. "What is it you want me to do?" he asked, his voice quavering in fear.

Mac's eyes narrowed in determination as he stared toward the vortex. "Start praying."

* * *

"_Stupid_ boy!"

Lucifer flung another fist in Terrence's direction, sending him careening backward against the edge of the vortex. The young teen groaned, a trickle of blood ran from the edge of his mouth, and his head flopped to one side. He was rendered powerless and too weak to fight back physically, and his health was slowly deteriorating with each passing second. It wouldn't be long until he slipped toward death, he knew, and he didn't care anymore.

It wasn't worth it anymore.

"Usually my past benedicts have put up a good fight," he growled, "but if I can destroy you with my bare hands…well, I've certainly picked the wrong one, now, haven't I?" He grabbed Terrence around the collar and drew him close to his face. "You thought you could stop me. You thought I couldn't have my way." Terrence groaned in response; Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "You were a fool. I _always_ get my way. I always _have_."

The vortex broke, sending the two down to the ground gently. Lucifer flung Terrence to the ground, sending him skidding several feet along the grass. "You're a weakling. A failure. No one likes you and no one _will_."

"I digress."

Lucifer whipped his head in the direction of the voice, just in time to see Mac standing there, his spirit lifted despite his haggard appearance. Behind him, the Reverend was chanting an ancient Hebrew prayer, passing his hand over the water of the pond. Immediately as he finished, the pond seemed to sparkle; take on an enchanting demeanor. He stood up, clutching the Bible to his chest, and faced the demon alongside Mac.

"Get behind thee, Satan!" the Reverend growled, clenching one hand into a fist. "No force of evil shall ever triumph over the fire burning in all mankind."

Lucifer chuckled. "So the little sacrifice brought a Holy Man. How cute." He crossed his arms, smirking at the two. "And just how to you expect to defeat the likes of me? A little pond full of Holy Water? A couple of petty prayers to your precious One Above?" He stepped toward them menacingly, fire burning at his fingertips. "Let me tell you something you don't know. I am Evil itself. I am the source of which all pain and suffering dwells from. Not even the Army of Light can stop pain and suffering, and I seriously doubt that a couple of mere mortals will be able to."

"No," Mac breathed, "but a Hellbeast can."

Lucifer threw back his head in laughter. "The Hellbeast? And just how do you expect to summon the Hellbeast with a pitiful excuse for a man and a little brown book? You two were fools from the start."

"No, they weren't."

Lucifer turned around angrily, just in time to see that Terrence had gotten up and was now standing at the edge of the pond, his back to the water, grinning coyly. Around his neck hung the amulet, its jewel sparkling in the moonlight, while yards away Berry was smiling boldly, clinging tightly to Bloo. Bloo didn't seem to know what on Earth was going on, but he was secretly glad to have her company.

"Someone once said that there was no easy way out of any situation," Terrence breathed, his steel-gray eyes locking onto Lucifer's green ones. "That's not true. There can always be an easy way with the right knowledge and the will to sacrifice."

Lucifer eyed the amulet; fear seemed to dance within his irises. "You wouldn't _dare_ dive into that pond," he growled menacingly, trying to intimidate the boy. "You'll have no idea what you've _done_."

Terrence stared at him, the wind blowing his hair, the blood trickling from his face, then finally mouthed three final words:

"I don't care."

He then spread his arms and allowed himself to fall backward, engulfing himself in the blessed water. As he lay suspended, eyes closed, water slowly filling his aching lungs, the amulet around his neck gave a low whining noise and began to glow, gently vibrating against his slowing heart. From within his brain came screaming sounds; sounds to stop. His lips drew into a victorious smile as the amulet grew brighter, and his bodily functions grew dimmer.

_I win._

These were the last words that went through his head before the amulet exploded in a flash of light, engulfing the entire pond. He was the only one who fell into darkness.


	14. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

Frankie, dirtied and torn from the explosion of light, slowly opened her eyes, expecting to find herself six feet under. What she found looking at instead was a pair of gray rabbit feet, laced with foot-cuffs. As her gaze traveled upward, she found that it was, indeed, whom she thought it was. Ignoring the pain, she leapt to her feet, giving the rabbit a tight squeeze around the neck.

"Mr. Herriman!" she exclaimed, tears of joy streaming down her face. "Oh, my God…in all my life I _never_ thought I'd be more happy to see you!" She snuggled against his fur. "Oh man, you have _no_ idea what we've been through!"

The large gray rabbit blushed slightly, but he was not about to admit that he had missed Frankie as well. Drawing away from her, he straightened his bowtie and nodded. "Yes, yes, got yourselves lost, no doubt." He shook his head. "I honestly expected better from you, Miss Francis. Twenty-two years old and you lead these innocent imaginary friends into a wild goose-chase."

Frankie ignored his remark and attempted to brush the soot off of her clothes. "How'd you find us, anyway?"

Mr. Herriman straightened his monocle. "I received a distress call from a nearby cathedral just past two in the morning. A nice young man, although he did appear quite haggard, apparently knew who you were and gave me directions to this particular location." Frankie leaned over to one side to look behind him; she could see the Foster's bus parked on the gravel road not too far from the church. "You'd traveled further than you'd thought in your expedition to find Master Blooregard—it was a four-hour drive to get here."

"Yeah, but we found him!" a voice chimed out from behind them. "Look!"

The two turned around just in time to see Wilt—just as soot-covered and dirty as the others—emerge, carrying Bloo with him. The blue blob was apparently half-dazed and really didn't know what was going on; he was murmuring unintelligible words and shifting his eyes in different directions. Behind Wilt came Coco, then Eduardo, who appeared frightened but at the same time relieved. In his arms he carried Mac, and on his back he carried Terrence—who appeared to be in the worst state of all. His skin was torn and sliced, his hair was a mess, his face and body were caked in blood, and most of his clothing had ripped off as a result of the explosion. Blood trickled from his mouth and wounds onto Eduardo's purple fur as the beast approached the rest of the group.

"Mr. Herriman!" Eduardo exclaimed, smiling; if his arms weren't full he surely would've given the rabbit a hug. "Es so good to see you!"

"Yes, yes…it's…rather nice to see you as well," the rabbit replied; his gaze then traveled to Mac and Terrence. "Good Lord! What happened to them?"

"It's a long story, and you probably won't believe it," Frankie told him. "All we know right now is that they need immediate medical care—before it's too late. As for me and the others, well…" She looked over toward them. "We'll be fine. We just need some first aid and a good shower."

"I'll contact an ambulance immediately," Mr. Herriman replied. "Right now, however, let's head back to the—MY WORD!"

He looked up in time to see Cerberus lope up, its fur ruffled and burnt off in some places, followed by Berry, who appeared just as bent-up as the rest of them. She gave a loud sigh, then looked up toward the others, her eyes bearing an expression of sadness. Frankie frowned, then slowly approached her.

"Berry…" She began, but the magenta friend looked away.

"No," she replied. "The first time I came there all I did was cause trouble. I don't belong with the likes of you…even after all this." She looked up toward the redhead, tears brimming her eyes. "Just…just leave me here. I'm sure I'll find someone who loves me…sooner or later."

Frankie smiled, then stroked her on the head. "Everyone deserves a second chance," she replied, then added, smirking, "and besides, you just did."

Berry looked toward Bloo, who was still dizzy and appeared to be delirious from the events that had taken place, but their moments together, their teamwork, their compatibility, remained fresh in her mind like newly-developed photographs, and she beamed. Sure, Bloo was selfish, rude, and a bit of a jerk, but he liked her now. She had fulfilled what she had dreamed of since she had first come to the house long ago.

"You belong with us," Frankie told her. "That's what this entire organization was founded for." She nodded upward toward Cerberus. "Him as well—we can't leave him alone, and technically he _is_ Terrence's friend." She looked her in the eyes, placed her hands on the little friend's delicate shoulders. "So, what do you say? Will you come back and stay this time?"

Berry smiled, then nodded and leapt into Frankie's arms. Cerberus gave a grunt of approval, then reached down and began giving the entire group a tongue-bath out of its gratitude—with all three heads. Mr. Herriman was disgusted, but the others laughed—all except for the two unconscious ones.

"Now, then," Frankie told the others, "Let's go home."

"Home," Berry repeated, and she drifted into slumber against Frankie's shoulder as they walked back to the bus, Cerberus following after them. She slept soundly for the first time that she had since she was created, because now she knew she was finally home.

To stay.

* * *

The hospital room was silent, all except for the continuous beeping of the pace monitor hooked up next to the bed. The medics had done everything they could for Terrence, but he was still slipping slowly toward death. His soul had been expired in order to summon the Hellbeast, leaving his body a torn, bruised, empty shell. He couldn't feel; couldn't think for himself. He might as well be dead.

The curtains fluttered slightly, and rays of sunlight shone in through the room. He sighed softly, forcing the air through his lungs, and looked at the gentle beams as they caressed the room's interior. He knew he was delirious, because they were swirling, forming, taking shape. Eventually they formed the shape of a man—a man that Terrence had seen before and knew all too well, but could not speak his name, he was too weak.

The figure of light smiled at him, held up his hand, and mouthed the words "Well done" before softly placing a hand on the boy's feverish forehead. Immediately warmth seemed to flood back into his cold body; his brain became unfrozen, his body could move. Terrence reached a hand out to the guardian, but as soon as it had come, it was gone—vanished with the light. He sighed and slumped against the hospital bed, as the pace monitor slowly sped up a few notches.

"Terrence?"

He looked up in time to see the nurse standing near the doorway, clipboard in one hand, smiling slightly. "You have visitors, dear. Feeling better?"

"Yeah," he replied weakly, slowly sitting up and rubbing the side of his head. The nurse smiled.

"That's nice to hear." She opened the door wider, allowing a single person to enter. "You'll probably be active again in no time, but just be sure not to get _too_ excited, okay?"

"Whatever," Terrence replied, then smiled at the little boy in the wheelchair before him. "Mac," he said softly, then reached down to hug him. Mac responded with a smile and a hug back, trying not to strain his injured leg—now in a cast. "God, I'm sorry. If it weren't for all this Hell bullshit you'd probably never have ended up like this."

"It's okay," Mac replied. "Besides, you showed me something down there that I never thought I'd see in years. You care about me…you really do."

Terrence sighed; drew his knees up to his chest. "Yeah," he replied, blushing slightly. "It just runs in the bloodline…I guess. Besides, no one gets to smack you around but me." He smiled broadly as he said that last sentence. "But I guess I won't be smacking you around until your bones knit, huh?"

"Guess so." Mac frowned as he stared down at his cast, then looked back up at Terrence. "Oh yeah! Cerberus was taken to the House not too long ago. Frankie told me all about it. They've built him a special place out back near the Extremeosaur pen so that he'll feel at home."

"Awesome." Terrence stopped. "They _are_ feeding him, aren't they?"

"Three squares a day, plus Ed likes to sneak him some snacks." He laughed. "Mr. Herriman is still wondering where all the doggy biscuits went." He giggled, then said, "He's really looking forward to seeing you again. He misses you…you know how dogs are. Loyal to their masters."

"Yeah…plus, I'll have a totally kickass new friend to fight in the Extremeosaur Championship," Terrence grinned. "That stupid electric rabbit doesn't stand a _chance_ against my new dog—OW!"

He doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach—it had felt like a knife had just been stabbed through his intestines. It was unbearable, but it passed over quickly; he opened his eyes in time to see a worried-looking Mac.

"You okay?" the little boy asked him.

Terrence panted a few times, then nodded. "Yeah," he replied. "Yeah. I guess it was just a cra—GAH!" He doubled over again, the pain shooting through his abdomen like a white-hot bullet. This time it seemed to linger before it faded entirely. "Owwww…"

"Something's still wrong with you." Mac shook his head. "And it's internal. I hope you're not catching appendicitis, because that would really bite."

"I don't—OW!—know what it is, but it's—ARGH!—driving me freaking nuts!" Terrence held his stomach tightly, teeth clenched, sweat dripping down his face. "Mac, send the nurse to get me some—URK!—morphine, and make it quick. I can't take—GAH!—much more of this crap."

Mac raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "I can try," he replied; he then turned around and wheeled himself out of the room. Terrence looked after him as he left, stabs of pain still coursing through him, then sighed and looked up toward the ceiling.

_For Christ's sake_, he thought, _what's wrong with me THIS time…?_

* * *

"I'm so glad that you've found my boys," Mac and Terrence's mother replied, tears streaming down her face, her hands clasped in front of her. "I was so worried that they'd be dead, I couldn't sleep for nights—"

"Just doing our job, ma'am." The officer nodded slowly. "A certain Miss Francis brought them into the County Hospital. They were pretty banged up, but the medics managed to fix up most of their wounds; they should be ready to leave in a few days, possibly less."

"Were they hurt badly?"

"The little one had a slit down his side, a couple of bruises, and a broken leg, which the medics took care of. He should be just fine. The older one, though…" He frowned slightly, his brow creased.

"What?"

"Well…" He took off his hat, scratched his head. "He's suffered quite a few wounds, which the medics took care of…it's just that…well…just that…" He drew in a deep breath, let it out. "Ma'am, when we brought your boys in we made the technicians take internal scans to make sure that they were okay before the medics operated on them. The younger one's turned out normal, but there was something about the older one's. Something…not right."

"What's wrong? Is he okay?"

"He'll live. It's just that…there's something going on in his abdominal area. Something strange; unknown to physical science. We're pretty sure that this is just a glitch, but we're detecting high energy readings in an area located near his stomach and intestines. It's peculiar. It's something we've never seen before…"

He breathed in again. "Almost…inhuman…"

Lucifer was down, but not out. Behind him lay the remains of the Hellbeast, which the workers were now feasting on in a most barbaric manner. His robe was torn and several of the feathers on his wings had been yanked out, but it was only a minor technicality. He had healed quickly, and was now watching Terrence double over in pain, meditating on the hospital room. He gave a coy smile as he read Terrence's thoughts; chuckled to himself.

"You'll find out what's wrong with you soon enough," he murmured to himself. "You may think you have bested me, but in reality…"

He gave a dark stare. "Your troubles are only _beginning_."

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

**

* * *

NOTES**

**Hi guys! The author, Grand High Idol, speaking here. I normally don't insert notes into each and every chapter because I think it kind of kills the moment of the story, but hey, it's just my opinion. If you'd want me to, I'd be more than happy to respond to your reviews.**

**Which reminds me—thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I know that this story was kind of rushed—at least in my eyes—but you were really helpful with your support. I especially want to thank Mind of Sorrow, Spyden, and Gareth Paul Barsby—they were the ones that reviewed the most. And I also want to thank Kelt, NoName the Weird, and Lucyrocks73 for providing such appreciative reviews—enough to make me carry on to the finish!**

**But here's the catch, guys—it's not over yet. There's still many more things Terrence, Mac, Bloo, Berry, Frankie, and all the others have to go through before Satan is truly put to rest with his intentions. Following up will be a sequel to "The Devil's Reign"—a small novelette entitled "Sixth Sundown", in which the gang must team with the Army of Light itself to battle the forces of Lucifer's growing army.**

**However, there ARE subjects that may concern and even disgust some, and that's why I'm bringing this up. "Sixth Sundown" will NOT be a story intended for children and will, in some ways, defy scientific laws. There _will_ be male pregnancy, mentions of different religions, and blood and gore, plus some stuff I don't even want to get into yet. If this disturbs you, I advise you not to read the sequel itself—either that or I'll post it on my DA account and not here on I just don't want flames because of the subject matter.**

**Just a friendly warning, is all. Until next time…**


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